THE  PURPLE  LAND 


RICHARD 


W:   H.' HUD  SON 


'*•*• 


THE 
PURPLE   LAND 

Being  the  Narrative 

of  one  Richard  Lamb's  Adventures 

in  the  Banda  Oriental,  in  South  America, 

as  told  by  Himself 


ILLUSTRATED     BY 
KEITH    HENDERSON 


THREE     SIRENS    PRESS 

IO4    FIFTH   AVENUE 

NEW    YORK 


2  II  0 


,  I 


Printed  in  the  United  States  of  America  by 

J.  J.    LITTLE  AND   IVES   COMPANY,    NEW    YORK 


38  705 

BANCROFT  LIBRARY 


PREFACE 


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Cfte  purple  LanD 


PREFACE 


^(HIS  work  was  first  issued  in  1885,  by  Messrs.  Sampson  Low, 
in  two  slim  volumes,  with  the  longer,  and  to  most  persons, 
enigmatical  title  of  The  Purple  Land  That  England  Lost. 
A  purple  land  may  be  found  in  almost  any  region  of  the  globe,  and 
'tis  of  our  gains,  not  our  losses,  we  keep  count.  A  few  notices  of  the 
book  appeared  in  the  papers,  one  or  two  of  the  more  serious  literary 
journals  reviewing  it  (not  favourably)  under  the  heading  of  "Trav- 
els and  Geography";  but  the  reading  public  cared  not  to  buy,  and 
it  very  shortly  fell  into  oblivion.  There  it  might  have  remained  for 
a  further  period  of  nineteen  years,  or  for  ever,  since  the  sleep  of  a 
book  is  apt  to  be  of  the  unawakening  kind,  had  not  certain  men  of 
letters,  who  found  it  on  a  forgotten  heap  and  liked  it  in  spite  of  its 
faults,  or  because  of  them,  concerned  themselves  to  revive  it. 

We  are  often  told  that  an  author  never  wholly  loses  his  affection 
for  a  first  book,  and  the  feeling  has  been  likened  (more  than  once) 
to  that  of  a  parent  towards  a  first-born.  I  have  not  said  it,  but  in 
consenting  to  this  reprint  I  considered  that  a  writer's  early  or  unre- 
garded work  is  apt  to  be  raked  up  when  he  is  not  standing  by  to 
make  remarks.  He  may  be  absent  on  a  journey  from  which  he  is 
not  expected  to  return.  It  accordingly  seemed  better  that  I  should 
myself  supervise  a  new  edition,  since  this  would  enable  me  to  remove 
a  few  of  the  numerous  spots  and  pimples  which  decorate  the  ingen- 
ious countenance  of  the  work  before  handing  it  on  to  posterity. 

Besides  many  small  verbal  corrections  and  changes,  the  deletion 
of  some  paragraphs  and  the  insertion  of  a  few  new  ones,  I  have 
omitted  one  entire  chapter  containing  the  Story  of  a  Piebald  Horse, 
recently  reprinted  in  another  book  entitled  El  Ombu.  I  have  also 


Cfte  purple  CanD 

dropped  the  tedious  introduction  to  the  former  edition,  only  pre- 
serving, as  an  appendix,  the  historical  part,  for  the  sake  of  such  of 
my  readers  as  may  like  to  have  a  few  facts  about  the  land  that 
England  lost. 

W.  H.  H. 

September,  1904. 

[FOR  THE  SECOND  EDITION] 


PEOPLE  OF 
THE  PURPLE  LAND 


MARGARITA 


DOLORES 


PAQUITA 


TORIBIA 


MONICA 


ANITA 


SANTA  COLOMA 


CANDELARIA 


DEMETRIA 


PERALTA 


CLETA 


HILARIO 


THE  PURPLE  LAND 


Cl)t  purple  tanD 


CHAPTER  I 

chapters  in  the  story  of  my  life — three  periods,  dis- 
tinct and  well  defined,  yet  consecutive — beginning  when  I 
-iL  had  not  completed  twenty-five  years  and  finishing  before 
thirty,  will  probably  prove  the  most  eventful  of  all.  To  the  very  end 
they  will  come  back  oftenest  to  memory  and  seem  more  vivid  than 
all  the  other  years  of  existence— the  four-and-twenty  I  had  already 
lived,  and  the,  say,  forty  or  forty-five— I  hope  it  may  be  fifty  or  even 
sixty — which  are  to  follow.  For  what  soul  in  this  wonderful,  various 
world  would  wish  to  depart  before  ninety!  The  dark  as  well  as  the 
light,  its  sweet  and  its  bitter,  make  me  love  it. 

Of  the  first  of  these  three  a  word  only  need  be  written.  This  was 
the  period  of  courtship  and  matrimony ;  and  though  the  experience 
seemed  to  me  then  something  altogether  new  and  strange  in  the 
world,  it  must  nevertheless  have  resembled  that  of  other  men,  since 
all  men  marry.  And  the  last  period,  which  was  the  longest  of  the 
three,  occupying  fully  three  years,  could  not  be  told.  It  was  all  black 
disaster.  Three  years  of  enforced  separation  and  the  extremest  suf- 
fering which  the  cruel  law  of  the  land  allowed  an  enraged  father 
to  inflict  on  his  child  and  the  man  who  had  ventured  to  wed  her 
against  his  will.  Even  the  wise  may  be  driven  mad  by  oppression, 
and  I  that  was  never  wise,  but  lived  in  and  was  led  by  the  passions 
and  illusions  and  the  unbounded  self-confidence  of  youth,  what 
must  it  have  been  for  me  when  we  were  cruelly  torn  asunder;  when 
I  was  cast  into  prison  to  lie  for  long  months  in  the  company  of 
felons,  ever  thinking  of  her  who  was  also  desolate  and  breaking  her 
heart!  But  it  is  ended — the  abhorrent  restraint,  the  anxiety,  the 
broodings  over  a  thousand  possible  and  impossible  schemes  of  re- 
venge. If  it  is  any  consolation  to  know  that  in  breaking  her  heart 
he,  at  the  same  time,  broke  his  own,  and  made  haste  to  join  her  in 


Cfte  purple  JLanD 

that  silent  place,  I  have  it.  Ah  no!  it  is  no  comfort  to  me,  since  I 
cannot  but  reflect  that  before  he  shattered  my  life  I  had  shattered 
his  by  taking  her  from  him,  who  was  his  idol.  We  are  quits  then, 
and  I  can  even  say,  "Peace  to  his  ashes!"  But  I  could  not  say  it  then 
in  my  frenzy  and  grief,  nor  could  it  be  said  in  that  fatal  country 
which  I  had  inhabited  from  boyhood  and  had  learned  to  love  like 
my  own,  and  had  hoped  never  to  leave.  It  was  grown  hateful  to  me, 
and,  flying  from  it,  I  found  myself  once  more  in  that  Purple  Land 
where  we  had  formerly  taken  refuge  together,  and  which  now 
seemed  to  my  distracted  mind  a  place  of  pleasant  and  peaceful 
memories. 

During  the  months  of  quietude  after  the  storm,  mostly  spent  in 
lonely  rambles  by  the  shore,  these  memories  were  more  and  more 
with  me.  Sometimes  sitting  on  the  summit  of  that  great  solitary  hill, 
which  gives  the  town  its  name,  I  would  gaze  by  the  hour  on  the 
wide  prospect  towards  the  interior,  as  if  I  could  see,  and  never 
weary  of  seeing,  all  that  lay  beyond — plains  and  rivers  and  woods 
and  hills,  and  cabins  where  I  had  rested,  and  many  a  kindly  human 
face.  Even  the  faces  of  those  who  had  ill-treated  or  regarded  me 
with  evil  eyes  now  appeared  to  have  a  friendly  look.  Most  of  all 
did  I  think  of  that  dear  river,  the  unforgettable  Yi,  the  shaded  white 
house  at  the  end  of  the  little  town,  and  the  sad  and  beautiful  image 
of  one  whom  I,  alas !  had  made  unhappy. 

So  much  was  I  occupied  towards  the  end  of  that  vacant  period 
with  these  recollections  that  I  remembered  how,  before  quit- 
ting these  shores,  the  thought  had  come  to  me  that  during  some 
quiet  interval  in  my  life  I  would  go  over  it  all  again,  and  write  the 
history  of  my  rambles  for  others  to  read  in  the  future.  But  I  did  not 
attempt  it  then,  nor  until  long  years  afterwards.  For  I  had  no  sooner 
begun  to  play  with  the  idea  than  something  came  to  rouse  me  from 
the  state  I  was  in,  during  which  I  had  been  like  one  that  has  out- 
lived his  activities,  and  is  no  longer  capable  of  a  new  emotion,  but 
feeds  wholly  on  the  past.  And  this  something  new,  affecting  me  so 
that  I  was  all  at  once  myself  again,  eager  to  be  up  and  doing,  was 
nothing  more  than  a  casual  word  from  a  distance,  the  cry  of  a  lonely 
heart,  which  came  by  chance  to  my  ear;  and,  hearing  it,  I  was  like 

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Cfte  purple  JLanO 

one  who,  opening  his  eyes  from  a  troubled  doze,  unexpectedly  sees 
the  morning  star  in  its  unearthly  lustre  above  the  wide,  dark  plain 
where  night  overtook  him — the  star  of  day  and  everlasting  hope, 
and  of  passion  and  strife  and  toil  and  rest  and  happiness. 

I  need  not  linger  on  the  events  which  took  us  to  the  Banda — our 
nocturnal  flight  from  Paquita's  summer  home  on  the  pampas;  the 
hiding  and  clandestine  marriage  in  the  capital  and  subsequent  es- 
cape northwards  into  the  province  of  Santa  Fe;  the  seven  to  eight 
months  of  somewhat  troubled  happiness  we  had  there;  and,  finally, 
the  secret  return  to  Buenos  Ayres  in  search  of  a  ship  to  take  us  out 
of  the  country.  Troubled  happiness !  Ah,  yes,  and  my  greatest  trou- 
ble was  when  I  looked  on  her,  my  partner  for  life,  when  she  seemed 
loveliest,  so  small,  so  exquisite  in  her  dark  blue  eyes  that  were  like 
violets,  and  silky  black  hair  and  tender  pink  and  olive  complex- 
ion— so  frail  in  appearance!  And  I  had  taken  her — stolen  her — 
from  her  natural  protectors,  from  the  home  where  she  had  been 
worshipped — I  of  an  alien  race  and  another  religion,  without  means, 
and,  because  I  had  stolen  her,  an  offender  against  the  law.  But  of 
this  no  more.  I  begin  my  itinerary  where,  safe  on  our  little  ship, 
with  the  towers  of  Buenos  Ayres  fast  fading  away  in  the  west,  we 
began  to  feel  free  from  apprehension  and  to  give  ourselves  up  to 
the  contemplation  of  the  delights  before  us.  Winds  and  waves  pres- 
ently interfered  with  our  raptures,  Paquita  proving  a  very  indiffer- 
ent sailor,  so  that  for  some  hours  we  had  a  very  trying  time  of  it. 
Next  day  a  favourable  north-west  breeze  sprang  up  to  send  us  fly- 
ing like  a  bird  over  those  unlovely  red  billows,  and  in  the  evening 
we  disembarked  in  Montevideo,  the  city  of  refuge.  We  proceeded 
to  an  hotel,  where  for  several  days  we  lived  very  happily,  enchanted 
with  each  other's  society;  and  when  we  strolled  along  the  beach  to 
watch  the  setting  sun,  kindling  with  mystic  fire  heaven,  water,  and 
the  great  hill  that  gives  the  city  its  name,  and  remembered  that  we 
were  looking  towards  the  shores  of  Buenos  Ayres,  it  was  pleasant 
to  reflect  that  the  widest  river  in  the  world  rolled  between  us  and 
those  who  probably  felt  offended  at  what  we  had  done. 

This  charming  state  of  things  came  to  an  end  at  length  in  a 
somewhat  curious  manner.  One  night,  before  we  had  been  a  month 

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Cfte  purple  JLanD 

in  the  hotel,  I  was  lying  wide  awake  in  bed.  It  was  late;  I  had 
already  heard  the  mournful,  long-drawn  voice  of  the  watchman 
under  my  window  calling  out,  "Half-past  one  and  cloudy." 

Gil  Bias  relates  in  his  biography  that  one  night  while  lying 
awake  he  fell  into  practising  a  little  introspection,  an  unusual  thing 
for  him  to  do,  and  the  conclusion  he  came  to  was  that  he  was  not 
a  very  good  young  man.  I  was  having  a  somewhat  similar  experi- 
ence that  night  when  in  the  midst  of  my  unflattering  thoughts 
about  myself,  a  profound  sigh  from  Paquita  made  me  aware  that 
she  too  was  lying  wide  awake  and  also,  in  all  probability,  chewing 
the  cud  of  reflection.  When  I  questioned  her  concerning  that  sigh, 
she  endeavoured  in  vain  to  conceal  from  me  that  she  was  beginning 
to  feel  unhappy.  What  a  rude  shock  the  discovery  gave  me!  And 
we  so  lately  married !  It  is  only  just  to  Paquita,  however,  to  say  that 
had  I  not  married  her  she  would  have  been  still  more  unhappy. 
Only  the  poor  child  could  not  help  thinking  of  father  and  mother; 
she  yearned  for  reconciliation,  and  her  present  sorrow  rose  from 
her  belief  that  they  would  never,  never,  never  forgive  her.  I  endeav- 
oured, with  all  the  eloquence  I  was  capable  of,  to  dispel  these 
gloomy  ideas,  but  she  was  firm  in  her  conviction  that  precisely 
because  they  had  loved  her  so  much  they  would  never  pardon  this 
first  great  offence.  My  poor  darling  might  have  been  reading  Chris- 
tabel,  I  thought,  when  she  said  that  it  is  toward  those  who  have 
been  most  deeply  loved  the  wounded  heart  cherishes  the  greatest 
bitterness.  Then,  by  way  of  illustration,  she  told  me  of  a  quarrel 
between  her  mother  and  a  till  then  dearly  loved  sister.  It  had  hap- 
pened many  years  ago,  when  she,  Paquita,  was  a  mere  child;  yet 
the  sisters  had  never  forgiven  each  other. 

"And  where,"  I  asked,  "is  this  aunt  of  yours,  of  whom  I  have 
never  heard  you  speak  until  this  minute?" 

"Oh,"  answered  Paquita,  with  the  greatest  simplicity  imaginable, 
"she  left  this  country  long,  long  ago,  and  you  never  heard  of  her 
because  we  were  not  even  allowed  to  mention  her  name  in  the 
house.  She  went  to  live  in  Montevideo,  and  I  believe  she  is  there 
still,  for  several  years  ago  I  heard  some  person  say  that  she  had 
bought  herself  a  house  in  that  city." 

4 


C6e  purple  JLanB 

"Soul  of  my  life,"  said  I,  "you  have  never  left  Buenos  Ayres  in 
heart,  even  to  keep  your  poor  husband  company!  Yet  I  know, 
Paquita,  that  corporeally  you  are  here  in  Montevideo,  conversing 
with  me  at  this  very  moment." 

"True,"  said  Paquita;  "I  had  somehow  forgotten  that  we  were 
in  Montevideo.  My  thoughts  were  wandering — perhaps  it  is  sleep- 


iness." 


"I  swear  to  you,  Paquita,"  I  replied,  "that  you  shall  see  this  aunt 
of  yours  to-morrow  before  set  of  sun;  and  I  am  positive,  sweetest, 
that  she  will  be  delighted  to  receive  so  near  and  lovely  a  relation. 
How  glad  she  will  be  of  an  opportunity  of  relating  that  ancient 
quarrel  with  her  sister  and  ventilating  her  mouldy  grievances!  I 
know  these  old  dames — they  are  all  alike." 

Paquita  did  not  like  the  idea  at  first,  but  when  I  assured  her 
that  we  were  getting  to  the  end  of  our  money,  and  that  her  aunt 
might  be  able  to  put  me  in  the  way  of  obtaining  employment,  she 
consented,  like  the  dutiful  little  wife  she  was. 

Next  day  I  discovered  her  relation  without  very  much  trouble, 
Montevideo  not  being  a  large  city.  We  found  Dona  Isidora — for 
that  was  the  lady's  name — living  in  a  somewhat  mean-looking 
house  at  the  eastern  extremity  of  the  town,  farthest  away  from  the 
water.  There  was  an  air  of  poverty  about  the  place,  for  the  good 
dame,  though  well  provided  with  means  to  live  comfortably,  made 
a  pet  of  her  gold.  Nevertheless,  she  received  us  very  kindly  when 
we  introduced  ourselves  and  related  our  mournful  and  romantic 
story;  a  room  was  prepared  for  our  immediate  reception,  and  she 
even  made  me  some  vague  promises  of  assistance.  On  a  more  inti- 
mate acquaintance  with  our  hostess  we  found  that  I  had  not  been 
very  far  out  in  guessing  her  character.  For  several  days  she  could 
talk  of  nothing  except  her  immemorial  quarrel  with  her  sister  and 
her  sister's  husband,  and  we  were  bound  to  listen  attentively  and 
to  sympathise  with  her,  for  that  was  the  only  return  we  could  make 
for  her  hospitality.  Paquita  had  more  than  her  share  of  it,  but  was 
made  no  wiser  as  to  the  cause  of  this  feud  of  long  standing;  for, 
though  Dona  Isidora  had  evidently  been  nursing  her  wrath  all 

5 


Cfte  Purple  JLanD 

those  years  to  keep  it  warm,  she  could  not,  for  the  life  of  her, 
remember  how  the  quarrel  originated. 

After  breakfast  each  morning  I  would  kiss  her  and  hand  her 
over  to  the  tender  mercies  of  her  Isidora,  then  go  forth  on  my  fruit- 
less perambulations  about  the  town.  At  first  I  only  acted  the  intelli- 
gent foreigner,  going  about  staring  at  the  public  buildings,  and 
collecting  curios — strangely  marked  pebbles,  and  a  few  military 
brass  buttons,  long  shed  by  the  garments  they  once  made  brave; 
rusty,  misshapen  bullets,  mementoes  of  the  immortal  nine  or  ten 
years'  siege  which  had  won  for  Montevideo  the  mournful  appella- 
tion of  modern  Troy.  When  I  had  fully  examined  from  the  outside 
the  scene  of  my  future  triumphs— for  I  had  now  resolved  to  settle 
down  and  make  my  fortune  in  Montevideo — I  began  seriously  to 
look  out  for  employment.  I  visited  in  turn  every  large  mercantile 
establishment  in  the  place,  and,  in  fact,  every  house  where  I  thought 
there  might  be  a  chance  of  lighting  on  something  to  do.  It  was 
necessary  to  make  a  beginning,  and  I  would  not  have  turned  up  my 
nose  at  anything,  however  small,  I  was  so  heartily  sick  of  being 
poor,  idle,  and  dependent.  Nothing  could  I  find.  In  one  house  I 
was  told  that  the  city  had  not  yet  recovered  from  the  effects  of 
the  late  revolution,  and  that  business  was,  in  consequence,  in  a 
complete  state  of  paralysis;  in  another  that  the  city  was  on  the  eve 
of  a  revolution,  and  that  business  was,  in  consequence,  in  a  complete 
state  of  paralysis.  And  everywhere  it  was  the  same  story — the  politi- 
cal state  of  the  country  made  it  impossible  for  me  to  win  an  honest 
dollar. 

Feeling  very  much  dispirited,  and  with  the  soles  nearly  worn  off 
my  boots,  I  sat  down  on  a  bench  beside  the  sea,  or  river — for  some 
call  it  one  thing,  some  the  other,  and  the  muddied  hue  and  fresh- 
ness of  the  water,  and  the  uncertain  words  of  geographers,  leave 
one  in  doubt  as  to  whether  Montevideo  is  situated  on  the  shores  of 
the  Atlantic,  or  only  near  the  Atlantic  and  on  the  shores  of  a  river 
one  hundred  and  fifty  miles  wide  at  its  mouth.  I  did  not  trouble 
my  head  about  it;  I  had  other  things  that  concerned  me  more  nearly 
to  think  of.  I  had  a  quarrel  with  this  Oriental  nation,  and  that  was 
more  to  me  than  the  greenness  or  the  saltness  of  the  vast  estuary 

6 


Cfte  purple  LanD 

that  washes  the  dirty  feet  of  its  queen — for  this  modern  Troy,  this 
city  of  battle,  murder,  and  sudden  death,  also  calls  itself  Queen  of 
the  Plata.  That  it  was.  a  very  just  quarrel  on  my  part  I  felt  well 
assured.  Now,  to  be  even  with  every  human  being  who  despitefully 
uses  me  has  ever  been  a  principle  of  action  with  me.  Nor  let  it  be 
said  that  it  is  an  unchristian  principle ;  for  when  I  have  been  smitten 
on  the  right  or  left  cheek  (the  pain  is  just  the  same  in  either  case), 
before  I  am  prepared  to  deliver  the  return  blow  so  long  a  time  has 
often  elapsed  that  all  wrathful  or  revengeful  thoughts  are  over.  I 
strike  in  such  a  case  more  for  the  public  good  than  for  my  own 
satisfaction,  and  am  therefore  right  in  calling  my  motive  a  prin- 
ciple of  action,  not  an  impulse.  It  is  a  very  valuable  one  too,  in- 
finitely more  effective  than  the  fantastical  code  of  the  duellist,  which 
favours  the  person  who  inflicts  the  injury,  affording  him  facilities 
for  murdering  or  maiming  the  person  injured.  It  is  a  weapon  in- 
vented for  us  by  Nature  before  Colonel  Colt  ever  lived,  and  it  has 
this  advantage,  that  one  is  permitted  to  wear  it  in  the  most  law- 
abiding  communities  as  well  as  amongst  miners  and  backwoods- 
men. If  inoffensive  people  were  ever  to  cast  it  aside,  then  wicked 
men  would  have  everything  their  own  way  and  make  life  intoler- 
able. Fortunately  the  evil-doers  always  have  the  fear  of  this  in- 
tangible six-shooter  before  them;  a  wholesome  feeling,  which  re- 
strains them  more  than  reasonableness  or  the  law  courts,  and  to 
which  we  owe  it  that  the  meek  are  permitted  to  inherit  the  earth. 
But  now  this  quarrel  was  with  a  whole  nation,  though  certainly 
not  with  a  very  great  one,  since  the  population  of  the  Banda  Ori- 
ental numbers  only  about  a  quarter  of  a  million.  Yet  in  this  sparsely 
settled  country,  with  its  bountiful  soil  and  genial  climate,  there  was 
apparently  no  place  for  me,  a  muscular  and  fairly  intelligent  young 
man,  who  only  asked  to  be  allowed  to  work  to  live!  But  how  was 
I  to  make  them  smart  for  this  injustice?  I  could  not  take  the 
scorpion  they  gave  me  when  I  asked  them  for  an  egg,  and  make  it 
sting  every  individual  composing  the  nation.  I  was  powerless,  utterly 
powerless,  to  punish  them,  and  therefore  the  only  thing  that  re- 
mained for  me  to  do  was  to  curse  them. 

Looking  around  me,  my  eyes  rested  on  the  famous  hill  across 

7 


Cfte  purple  ILanD 

the  bay,  and  I  all  at  once  resolved  to  go  up  to  its  summit,  and, 
looking  down  on  the  Banda  Oriental,  pronounce  my  imprecation  in 
the  most  solemn  and  impressive  manner. 

The  expedition  to  the  cerro,  as  it  is  called,  proved  agreeable 
enough.  Notwithstanding  the  excessive  heats  we  were  just  then 
having,  many  wild  flowers  were  blooming  on  its  slopes,  which  made 
it  a  perfect  garden.  When  I  reached  the  old  ruined  fort  which 
crowns  the  summit,  I  got  upon  a  wall  and  rested  for  half  an  hour, 
fanned  by  a  fresh  breeze  from  the  river  and  greatly  enjoying  the 
prospect  before  me.  I  had  not  left  out  of  sight  the  serious  object  of 
my  visit  to  that  commanding  spot,  and  only  wished  that  the  male- 
diction I  was  about  to  utter  could  be  rolled  down  in  the  shape  of  a 
stupendous  rock,  loosed  from  its  hold,  which  would  go  bounding 
down  the  mountain,  and,  leaping  clear  over  the  bay,  crash  through 
the  iniquitous  city  beyond,  filling  it  with  ruin  and  amazement. 

"Whichever  way  I  turn,"  I  said,  "I  see  before  me  one  of  the 
fairest  habitations  God  has  made  for  man:  great  plains  smiling  with 
everlasting  spring;  ancient  woods;  swift,  beautiful  rivers;  ranges  of 
blue  hills  stretching  away  to  the  dim  horizon.  And  beyond  those 
fair  slopes,  how  many  leagues  of  pleasant  wilderness  are  sleeping 
in  the  sunshine,  where  the  wild  flowers  waste  their  sweetness  and 
no  plough  turns  the  fruitful  soil,  where  deer  and  ostrich  roam  fear- 
less of  the  hunter,  while  over  all  bends  a  blue  sky  without  a  cloud 
to  stain  its  exquisite  beauty?  And  the  people  dwelling  in  yon  city 
— the  key  to  a  continent — they  are  the  possessors  of  it  all.  It  is  theirs, 
since  the  world,  out  of  which  the  old  spirit  is  fast  dying,  has  suf- 
fered them  to  keep  it.  What  have  they  done  with  this  their  heritage  ? 
What  are  they  doing  even  now  ?  They  are  sitting  dejected  in  their 
houses,  or  standing  in  their  doorways  with  folded  arms  and  anxious, 
expectant  faces.  For  a  change  is  coming:  they  are  on  the  eve  of  a 
tempest.  Not  an  atmospheric  change;  no  blighting  simoom  will 
sweep  over  their  fields,  nor  will  any  volcanic  eruption  darken  their 
crystal  heavens.  The  earthquakes  that  shake  the  Andean  cities  to 
their  foundations  they  have  never  known  and  can  never  know. 
The  expected  change  and  tempest  is  a  political  one.  The  plot  is 
ripe,  the  daggers  sharpened,  the  contingent  of  assassins  hired,  the 

8 


Cfte  Purple  Land 

throne  of  human  skulls,  styled  in  their  ghastly  facetiousness  a  Presi- 
dential Chair,  is  about  to  be  assaulted.  It  is  long,  weeks  or  even 
months,  perhaps,  since  the  last  wave,  crested  with  bloody  froth, 
rolled  its  desolating  flood  over  the  country;  it  is  high  time,  there- 
fore, for  all  men  to  prepare  themselves  for  the  shock  of  the  succeed- 
ing wave.  And  we  consider  it  right  to  root  up  thorns  and  thistles, 
to  drain  malarious  marshes,  to  extirpate  rats  and  vipers;  but  it 
would  be  immoral,  I  suppose,  to  stamp  out  these  people  because 
their  vicious  natures  are  disguised  in  human  shape;  this  people  that 
in  crimes  have  surpassed  all  others,  ancient  or  modern,  until  be- 
cause of  them  the  name  of  a  whole  continent  has  grown  to  be  a 
byword  of  scorn  and  reproach  throughout  the  earth,  and  to  stink 
in  the  nostrils  of  all  men! 

"I  swear  that  I,  too,  will  become  a  conspirator  if  I  remain  long 
on  this  soil.  Oh,  for  a  thousand  young  men  of  Devon  and  Somerset 
here  with  me,  every  one  of  them  with  a  brain  on  fire  with  thoughts 
like  mine!  What  a  glorious  deed  would  be  done  for  humanity! 
What  a  mighty  cheer  we  would  raise  for  the  glory  of  the  old 
England  that  is  passing  away!  Blood  would  flow  in  yon  streets  as 
it  never  flowed  before,  or,  I  should  say,  as  it  only  flowed  in  them 
once,  and  that  was  when  they  were  swept  clean  by  British  bayonets. 
And  afterwards  there  would  be  peace,  and  the  grass  would  be 
greener  and  the  flowers  brighter  for  that  crimson  shower. 

"Is  it  not  then  bitter  as  wormwood  and  gall  to  think  that  over 
these  domes  and  towers  beneath  my  feet,  no  longer  than  half  a 
century  ago,  fluttered  the  holy  cross  of  St.  George!  For  never  was 
there  a  holier  crusade  undertaken,  never  a  nobler  conquest  planned, 
than  that  which  had  for  its  object  the  wresting  this  fair  country 
from  unworthy  hands,  to  make  it  for  all  time  part  of  the  mighty 
English  kingdom.  What  would  it  have  been  now — this  bright, 
winterless  land,  and  this  city  commanding  the  entrance  to  the 
greatest  river  in  the  world?  And  to  think  that  it  was  won  for 
England,  not  treacherously,  or  bought  with  gold,  but  in  the  old 
Saxon  fashion  with  hard  blows,  and  climbing  over  heaps  of  slain 
defenders;  and  after  it  was  thus  won,  to  think  that  it  was  lost- 
will  it  be  believed  ?— not  fighting,  but  yielded  up  without  a  stroke 

9 


Cfte  purple 

by  craven  wretches  unworthy  of  the  name  of  Britons !  Here,  sitting 
alone  on  this  mountain,  my  face  burns  like  fire  when  I  think  of 
it — this  glorious  opportunity  lost  for  ever!  'We  offer  you  your  laws, 
your  religion,  and  property  under  the  protection  of  the  British 
Government,'  loftily  proclaimed  the  invaders — Generals  Beresford, 
Achmuty,  Whitelocke,  and  their  companions;  and  presently,  after 
suffering  one  reverse,  they  (or  one  of  them)  lost  heart  and  ex- 
changed the  country  they  had  drenched  in  blood,  and  had  con- 
quered, for  a  couple  of  thousand  British  soldiers  made  prisoners  in 
Buenos  Ayres  across  the  water;  then,  getting  into  their  ships  once 
more,  they  sailed  away  from  the  Plata  for  ever!  This  transaction, 
which  must  have  made  the  bones  of  our  Viking  ancestors  rattle 
with  indignation  in  their  graves,  was  forgotten  later  on  when  we 
seized  the  rich  Falklands.  A  splendid  conquest  and  a  glorious  com- 
pensation for  our  loss !  When  yon  queen  city  was  in  our  grasp,  and 
the  regeneration,  possibly  even  the  ultimate  possession,  of  this  green 
world  before  us,  our  hearts  failed  us  and  the  prize  dropped  from 
our  trembling  hands.  We  left  the  sunny  mainland  to  capture  the 
desolate  haunt  of  seals  and  penguins;  and  now  let  all  those  who  in 
this  quarter  of  the  globe  aspire  to  live  under  that  'British  Protec- 
tion' of  which  Achmuty  preached  so  loudly  at  the  gates  of  yon 
capital,  transport  themselves  to  those  lonely  antarctic  islands  to 
listen  to  the  thunder  of  the  waves  on  the  grey  shores  and  shiver  in 
the  bleak  winds  that  blow  from  the  frozen  south!" 

After  delivering  this  comminatory  address  I  felt  greatly  relieved, 
and  went  home  in  a  cheerful  frame  of  mind  to  supper,  which  con- 
sisted that  evening  of  mutton  scrag,  boiled  with  pumpkin,  sweet 
potatoes,  and  milky  maize — not  at  all  a  bad  dish  for  a  hungry  man. 


10 


Oc  Purple  LanD 


CHAPTER  II 

EVERAL  days  passed,  and  my  second  pair  of  boots  had  been 
twice  resoled  before  Dona  Isidora's  schemes  for  advancing 
my  fortunes  began  to  take  form.  Perhaps  she  was  beginning 
to  think  us  a  burden  on  her  somewhat  niggardly  establishment; 
anyway,  hearing  that  my  preference  was  for  a  country  life,  she  gave 
me  a  letter  containing  half  a  dozen  lines  of  commendation  addressed 
to  the  Mayordomo  of  a  distant  cattle-breeding  establishment,  asking 
him  to  serve  the  writer  by  giving  her  nephew — as  she  called  me — 
employment  of  some  kind  on  the  estancia.  Probably  she  knew  that 
this  letter  would  really  lead  to  nothing,  and  gave  it  merely  to  get 
me  away  into  the  interior  of  the  country,  so  as  to  keep  Paquita  for 
an  indefinite  time  to  herself,  for  she  had  become  extremely  at- 
tached to  her  beautiful  niece.  The  estancia  was  on  the  borders  of 
the  Paysandu  department,  and  not  less  than  two  hundred  miles 
from  Montevideo.  It  was  a  long  journey,  and  I  was  advised  not  to 
attempt  it  without  a  tropilla,  or  troop  of  horses.  But  when  a  native 
tells  you  that  you  cannot  travel  two  hundred  miles  without  a  dozen 
horses,  he  only  means  that  you  cannot  do  the  distance  in  two  days; 
for  it  is  hard  for  him  to  believe  that  one  may  be  satisfied  with  less 
than  one  hundred  miles  a  day.  I  travelled  on  one  horse,  and  it 
therefore  took  me  several  days  to  accomplish  my  journey.  Before  I 
reached  my  destination,  called  Estancia  de  la  Virgin  de  los  Desam- 
parados,  I  met  with  some  adventures  worth  relating,  and  began 
to  feel  as  much  at  home  with  the  Orientdles  as  I  had  long  been  with 
the  Argentines. 

Fortunately,  after  I  left  the  town,  a  west  wind  continued  blow- 
ing all  day,  bringing  with  it  many  light,  flying  clouds  to  mitigate 
the  sun,  so  that  I  was  able  to  cover  a  good  number  of  leagues  before 
the  evening.  I  took  the  road  northwards  through  Camelones  depart- 

ii 


Cfte  Purple  LanD 

ment,  and  was  well  on  into  the  Florida  department  when  I  put  up 
for  the  night  at  the  solitary  mud  rancho  of  an  old  herdsman,  who 
lived  with  his  wife  and  children  in  a  very  primitive  fashion.  When 
I  rode  up  to  the  house,  several  huge  dogs  rushed  out  to  attack  me: 
one  seized  my  horse  by  the  tail,  dragging  the  poor  beast  about  this 
way  and  that,  so  that  he  staggered  and  could  scarcely  keep  his  legs; 
another  caught  the  bridle-reins  in  his  mouth;  while  a  third  fixed 
his  fangs  in  the  heel  of  my  boot.  After  eyeing  me  for  some  mo- 
ments, the  grizzled  old  herdsman,  who  wore  a  knife  a  yard  long 
at  his  waist,  advanced  to  the  rescue.  He  shouted  at  the  dogs,  and 
finding  that  they  would  not  obey,  sprang  forward  and  with  a  few 
dexterous  blows,  dealt  with  his  heavy  whip-handle,  sent  them  away 
howling  with  rage  and  pain.  Then  he  welcomed  me  with  great 
courtesy,  and  very  soon,  when  my  horse  had  been  unsaddled  and 
turned  loose  to  feed,  we  were  sitting  together  enjoying  the  cool 
evening  air  and  imbibing  the  bitter  and  refreshing  mate  his  wife 
served  to  us.  While  we  conversed  I  noticed  numberless  fireflies 
flitting  about;  I  had  never  seen  them  so  numerous  before,  and  they 
made  a  very  lovely  show.  Presently  one  of  the  children,  a  bright 
little  fellow  of  seven  or  eight,  came  running  to  us  with  one  of  the 
sparkling  insects  in  his  hand,  and  cried: 

"Look,  tatita,  I  have  caught  a  linterna.  See  how  bright  it  is!" 

"The  Saints  forgive  you,  my  child,"  said  the  father.  "Go,  little 
son,  and  put  it  back  on  the  grass,  for  if  you  should  hurt  it,  the 
spirits  would  be  angry  with  you,  for  they  go  about  by  night,  and 
love  the  linterna  that  keeps  them  company." 

What  a  pretty  superstition,  I  thought;  and  what  a  mild,  merci- 
ful heart  this  old  Oriental  herdsman  must  possess  to  show  so  much 
tenderness  towards  one  of  God's  tiny  creatures.  I  congratulated 
myself  on  my  good  fortune  in  having  fallen  in  with  such  a  person 
in  this  lonely  place. 

The  dogs,  after  their  rude  behaviour  to  me  and  the  sharp  punish- 
ment they  had  suffered  in  consequence,  had  returned,  and  were  now 
gathered  around  us,  lying  on  the  ground.  Here  I  noticed,  not  for 
the  first  time,  that  the  dogs  belonging  to  these  lonely  places  are  not 
nearly  so  fond  of  being  noticed  and  caressed  as  are  those  of  more 

12 


Cfte  purple  JLanD 

populous  and  civilised  districts.  On  attempting  to  stroke  one  of 
these  surly  brutes  on  the  head,  he  displayed  his  teeth  and  growled 
savagely  at  me.  Yet  this  animal,  though  so  truculent  in  temper, 
and  asking  for  no  kindness  from  his  master,  is  just  as  faithful  to 
man  as  his  better-mannered  brother  in  the  more  settled  country. 
I  spoke  on  that  subject  to  my  gentle  herdsman. 

"What  you  say  is  true,"  he  replied.  "I  remember  once  during  the 
siege  of  Montevideo,  when  I  was  with  a  small  detachment  sent 
to  watch  the  movements  of  General  Rivera's  army,  we  one  day 
overtook  a  man  on  a  tired  horse.  Our  officer,  suspecting  him  to  be 
a  spy,  ordered  him  to  be  killed,  and,  after  cutting  his  throat,  we  left 
his  body  lying  on  the  open  ground  at  a  distance  of  about  two  hun- 
dred and  fifty  yards  from  a  small  stream  of  water.  A  dog  was  with 
him,  and  when  we  rode  off  we  called  it  to  follow  us,  but  it  would 
not  stir  from  its  dead  master's  side. 

"Three  days  later  we  returned  to  the  same  spot,  to  find  the  corpse 
lying  just  where  we  had  left  it.  The  foxes  and  birds  had  not  touched 
it,  for  the  dog  was  still  there  to  defend  it.  Many  vultures  were  near, 
waiting  for  a  chance  to  begin  their  feast.  We  alighted  to  refresh 
ourselves  at  the  stream,  then  stood  there  for  half  an  hour  watch- 
ing the  dog.  He  seemed  to  be  half-famished  with  thirst,  and  came 
towards  the  stream  to  drink;  but  before  he  got  half-way  to  it  the 
vultures,  by  twos  and  threes,  began  to  advance,  when  back  he 
flew  and  chased  them  away,  barking.  After  resting  a  few  minutes 
beside  the  corpse,  he  came  again  towards  the  stream,  till,  seeing  the 
hungry  birds  advance  once  more,  he  again  flew  back  at  them,  bark- 
ing furiously  and  foaming  at  the  mouth.  This  we  saw  repeated 
many  times,  and  at  last,  when  we  left,  we  tried  once  more  to  entice 
the  dog  to  follow  us,  but  he  would  not.  Two  days  after  that  we  had 
occasion  to  pass  by  that  spot  again,  and  there  we  saw  the  dog  lying 
dead  beside  his  dead  master." 

"Good  God,"  I  exclaimed,  "how  horrible  must  have  been  the 
feelings  you  and  your  companions  experienced  at  such  a  sight!" 

"No,  senor,  not  at  all,"  replied  the  old  man.  "Why,  senor,  I 
myself  put  the  knife  into  that  man's  throat.  For  if  a  man  did  not 

13 


Cfte  purple  Land 

grow  accustomed  to  shed  blood  in  this  world,  his  life  would  be  a 
burden  to  him." 

What  an  inhuman  old  murderer!  I  thought.  Then  I  asked  him 
whether  he  had  ever  in  his  life  felt  remorse  for  shedding  blood. 

"Yes,"  he  answered;  "when  I  was  a  very  young  man,  and  had 
never  before  dipped  weapon  in  human  blood;  that  was  when  the 
siege  began.  I  was  sent  with  half  a  dozen  men  in  pursuit  of  a 
clever  spy,  who  had  passed  the  lines  with  letters  from  the  besieged. 
We  came  to  a  house  where,  our  officer  had  been  informed,  he  had 
been  lying  concealed.  The  master  of  the  house  was  a  young  man 
about  twenty-two  years  old.  He  would  confess  nothing.  Finding 
him  so  stubborn,  our  officer  became  enraged,  and  bade  him  step 
out,  and  then  ordered  us  to  lance  him.  We  galloped  forty  yards 
off,  then  wheeled  back.  He  stood  silent,  his  arms  folded  on  his 
breast,  a  smile  on  his  lips.  Without  a  cry,  without  a  groan,  with 
that  smile  still  on  his  lips,  he  fell  pierced  through  with  our  lances. 
For  days  afterwards  his  face  was  ever  present  to  me.  I  could  not 
eat,  for  my  food  choked  me.  When  I  raised  a  jug  of  water  to  my 
lips  I  could,  senor,  distinctly  see  his  eyes  looking  at  me  from  the 
water.  When  I  lay  down  to  sleep,  his  face  was  again  before  me, 
always  with  that  smile  that  seemed  to  mock  me  on  the  lips.  I  could 
not  understand  it.  They  told  me  it  was  remorse,  and  that  it  would 
soon  leave  me,  for  there  is  no  ill  that  time  will  not  cure.  They 
spoke  truth,  and  when  that  feeling  left  me  I  was  able  to  do  all 
things." 

The  old  man's  story  so  sickened  me  that  I  had  little  appetite 
for  supper,  and  passed  a  bad  night  thinking,  waking  or  sleeping, 
of  that  young  man  in  this  obscure  corner  of  the  world  who  folded 
his  arms  and  smiled  on  his  slayers  when  they  were  slaying  him. 
Very  early  next  morning  I  bade  my  host  good-bye,  thanking  him 
for  his  hospitality,  and  devoutly  hoping  that  I  should  never  look 
upon  his  abhorred  face  again. 

I  made  little  progress  that  day,  the  weather  proving  hot,  and 
my  horse  lazier  than  ever.  After  riding  about  five  leagues,  I  rested 
for  a  couple  of  hours,  then  proceeded  again  at  a  gentle  trot  till 
about  the  middle  of  the  afternoon,  when  I  dismounted  at  a  way- 

14 


Cfte  purple  JLanD 

side  pulperia,  or  store  and  public-house  all  in  one,  where  several 
natives  were  sipping  rum  and  conversing.  Standing  before  them 
was  a  brisk-looking  old  man — old,  I  say,  because  he  had  a  dark, 
dry  skin,  though  his  hair  and  moustache  were  black  as  jet — who 
paused  in  the  discourse  he  appeared  to  be  delivering,  to  salute  me; 
then,  after  bestowing  a  searching  glance  on  me  out  of  his  dark, 
hawk-like  eyes,  he  resumed  his  talk.  After  calling  for  rum  and 
water,  to  be  in  the  fashion,  I  sat  down  on  a  bench,  and,  lighting  a 
cigarette,  prepared  to  listen.  He  was  dressed  in  shabby  gaucho 
habiliments — cotton  shirt,  short  jacket,  wide  cotton  drawers,  and 
chiripa,  a  shawl-like  garment  fastened  at  the  waist  with  a  sash, 
and  reaching  down  half-way  between  the  knees  and  ankles.  In 
place  of  a  hat  he  wore  a  cotton  handkerchief  tied  carelessly  about 
his  head;  his  left  foot  was  bare,  while  the  right  one  was  cased  in 
a  colt's-skin  stocking,  called  bota-de-potro ,  and  on  this  distinguished 
foot  was  buckled  a  huge  iron  spur,  with  spikes  two  inches  long. 
One  spur  of  the  kind  would  be  quite  sufficient,  I  should  imagine, 
to  get  out  of  a  horse  all  the  energy  of  which  he  was  capable.  When 
I  entered  he  was  holding  forth  on  the  pretty  well-worn  theme  of 
fate  versus  free  will;  his  arguments  were  not,  however,  the  usual 
dry  philosophical  ones,  but  took  the  form  of  illustration,  chiefly 
personal  reminiscences  and  strange  incidents  in  the  lives  of  people 
he  had  known,  while  so  vivid  and  minute  were  his  descriptions — 
sparkling  with  passion,  satire,  humour,  pathos,  and  so  dramatic  his 
action,  while  wonderful  story  followed  story — that  I  was  fairly 
astonished,  and  pronounced  this  old  pulperia  orator  a  born  genius. 
His  argument  over,  he  fixed  his  keen  eyes  on  me  and  said: 
"My  friend,  I  perceive  you  are  a  traveller  from  Montevideo: 
may  I  ask  what  news  there  is  from  that  city  ?" 

"What  news  do  you  expect  to  hear?"  said  I;  then  it  came  into 
my  thought  that  it  was  scarcely  proper  to  confine  myself  to  more 
commonplace  phrases  in  replying  to  this  curious  old  Oriental  bird, 
with  such  ragged  plumage,  but  whose  native  woodnotes  wild  had 
such  a  charm  in  them.  "It  is  only  the  old  story  over  again!"  I  con- 
tinued. "They  say  there  will  be  a  revolution  some  day.  Some  of  the 
people  have  already  retired  into  their  houses,  after  chalking  in  very 

15 


Cfte  purple  liana 

big  letters  on  their  front  doors,  'Please  come  into  this  house  and 
cut  the  owner's  throat  for  him,  so  that  he  may  rest  at  peace,  and 
have  no  fear  of  what  may  happen.'  Others  have  climbed  on  to  their 
roofs,  and  occupy  themselves  there  looking  at  the  moon  through 
spy-glasses,  thinking  that  the  conspirators  are  concealed  in  that 
luminary,  and  only  waiting  for  a  cloud  to  obscure  it,  in  order  to 
descend  upon  the  city  unobserved." 

"Hear!"  cried  the  old  man,  rapping  delighted  applause  on  the 
counter  with  his  empty  glass. 

"What  do  you  drink,  friend?"  I  asked,  thinking  his  keen  ap- 
preciation of  my  grotesque  speech  deserved  a  treat,  and  wishing  to 
draw  him  out  a  little  more. 

"Rum,  friend,  thank  you.  They  say  it  warms  you  in  winter,  and 
cools  you  in  summer — what  can  you  have  better?" 

"Tell  me,"  said  I,  when  his  glass  had  been  refilled  by  the  store- 
keeper, "what  I  shall  say  when  I  return  to  Montevideo,  and  am 
asked  what  news  there  is  in  the  country?" 

The  old  fellow's  eyes  twinkled,  while  the  other  men  ceased  talk- 
ing, and  looked  at  him  as  if  anticipating  something  good  in  reply 
to  my  question. 

"Say  to  them,"  he  answered,  "that  you  met  an  old  man — a  horse- 
tamer  named  Lucero — and  that  he  told  you  this  fable  for  you  to 
repeat  to  the  townspeople:  Once  there  was  a  great  tree  named 
Montevideo  growing  in  this  country,  and  in  its  branches  lived  a 
colony  of  monkeys.  One  day  one  of  the  monkeys  came  down  from 
the  tree  and  ran  full  of  excitement  across  the  plain,  now  scrambling 
along  like  a  man  on  all  fours,  then  erect  like  a  dog  running  on  its 
hind  legs,  while  its  tail,  with  nothing  to  catch  hold  of,  wriggled 
about  like  a  snake  when  its  head  is  under  foot.  He  came  to  a 
place  where  a  number  of  oxen  were  grazing,  and  some  horses, 
ostriches,  deer,  goats,  and  pigs.  'Friends  all,'  cried  the  monkey, 
grinning  like  a  skull,  and  with  staring  eyes  round  as  dollars,  'great 
news!  great  news!  I  come  to  tell  you  that  there  will  shortly  be  a 
revolution.'  'Where?'  said  an  ox.  'In  the  tree — where  else?'  said 
the  monkey.  'That  does  not  concern  us,'  said  the  ox.  'Oh,  yes,  it 
does!'  cried  the  monkey,  'for  it  will  presently  spread  about  the 

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Cfte  purple  LanD 

country  and  you  will  all  have  your  throats  cut.'  Then  the  ox  replied, 
'Go  back,  monkey,  and  do  not  molest  us  with  your  news,  lest  we 
get  angry  and  go  to  besiege  you  in  your  tree,  as  we  have  often  had 
to  do  since  the  creation  of  the  world;  and  then,  if  you  and  the 
other  monkeys  come  down  to  us,  we  will  toss  you  on  our  horns.' " 

This  apologue  sounded  very  well,  so  admirably  did  the  old  man 
picture  to  us  with  voice  and  gesture  the  chattering  excitement  of 
the  monkey  and  the  majestic  aplomb  of  the  ox. 

"Senor,"  he  continued,  after  the  laugh  had  subsided,  "I  do  not 
wish  any  of  my  friends  and  neighbours  here  present  to  fly  to  the 
conclusion  that  I  have  spoken  anything  offensive.  Had  I  seen  in 
you  a  Montevidean  I  should  not  have  spoken  of  monkeys.  But, 
senor,  though  you  speak  as  we  do,  there  is  yet  in  the  pepper  and 
salt  on  your  tongue  a  certain  foreign  flavour." 

"You  are  right,"  I  said;  "I  am  a  foreigner." 

"A  foreigner  in  some  things,  friend,  for  you  were  doubtless  born 
under  other  skies;  but  in  that  chief  quality,  which  we  think  was 
given  by  the  Creator  to  us  and  not  to  the  people  of  other  lands — 
the  ability  to  be  one  in  heart  with  the  men  you  meet,  whether  they 
are  clothed  in  velvet  or  in  sheep-skins — in  that  you  are  one  of  us, 
a  pure  Oriental." 

I  smiled  at  his  subtle  flattery;  possibly  it  was  only  meant  in  pay- 
ment of  the  rum  I  had  treated  him  to,  but  it  pleased  me  none  the 
less,  and  to  his  other  mental  traits  I  was  now  inclined  to  add  a 
marvellous  skill  in  reading  character. 

After  a  while  he  invited  me  to  spend  the  night  under  his  roof. 
"Your  horse  is  fat  and  lazy,"  he  said  with  truth,  "and,  unless  you 
are  a  relation  of  the  owl  family,  you  cannot  go  much  farther  before 
to-morrow.  My  house  is  a  humble  one,  but  the  mutton  is  juicy, 
the  fire  warm,  and  the  water  cool  there,  the  same  as  in  another 
place." 

I  readily  accepted  his  invitation,  wishing  to  see  as  much  as  I 
could  of  so  original  a  character,  and  before  starting  I  purchased  a 
bottle  of  rum,  which  made  his  eyes  sparkle  so  that  I  thought  his 
name — Lucero — rather  an  appropriate  one.  His  rancho  was  about 
two  miles  from  the  store,  and  our  ride  thither  was  about  as  strange 


Cfte  Purple  JLanD 

a  gallop  as  I  ever  took.  Lucero  was  a  domador,  or  horse-tamer,  and 
the  beast  he  rode  was  quite  unbroken  and  vicious  as  it  could  be. 
Between  horse  and  man  a  fierce  struggle  for  mastery  raged  the 
whole  time,  the  horse  rearing,  plunging,  buck-jumping,  and  put- 
ting into  practice  every  conceivable  trick  to  rid  itself  of  its  burden ; 
while  Lucero  plied  whip  and  spur  with  tremendous  energy  and 
poured  out  torrents  of  strange  adjectives.  At  one  moment  he  would 
come  into  violent  collision  with  my  old  sober  beast,  at  another 
there  would  be  fifty  yards  of  ground  between  us ;  still  Lucero  would 
not  stop  talking,  for  he  had  begun  a  very  interesting  story  at  start- 
ing, and  he  stuck  to  his  narrative  through  everything,  resuming  the 
thread  after  each  tempest  of  execration  vented  on  his  horse,  and 
raising  his  voice  almost  to  a  shout  when  we  were  far  apart.  The 
old  fellow's  staying  powers  were  really  extraordinary,  and  when 
we  arrived  at  the  house  he  jumped  airily  to  the  ground,  and  seemed 
fresh  and  calm  as  possible. 

In  the  kitchen  were  several  people  sipping  mate,  Lucero's  chil- 
dren and  grandchildren,  also  his  wife,  a  grey  old  dame  with  dim- 
looking  eyes.  But  then  my  host  was  old  in  years  himself,  only,  like 
Ulysses,  he  still  possessed  the  unquenched  fire  and  energy  of  youth 
in  his  soul,  while  time  bestowed  infirmities  together  with  wrinkles 
and  white  hairs  on  his  helpmate. 

He  introduced  me  to  her  in  a  manner  that  brought  the  modest 
flame  to  my  cheeks.  Standing  before  her,  he  said  that  he  had  met 
me  at  the  pulpcria  and  had  put  to  me  the  question  which  a  simple 
old  countryman  must  ask  of  every  traveller  from  Montevideo — 
What  the  news  was?  Then,  assuming  a  dry,  satirical  tone,  which 
years  of  practice  would  not  enable  me  to  imitate,  he  proceeded  to 
give  my  fantastical  answer,  garnished  with  much  original  matter  of 
his  own. 

"Senora,"  I  said,  when  he  had  finished,  "you  must  not  give  me 
credit  for  all  you  have  heard  from  your  husband.  I  only  gave  him 
brute  wool,  and  he  has  woven  it  for  your  delight  into  beautiful 
cloth." 

"Hear  him!  Did  I  tell  you  what  to  expect,  Juana?"  cried  the 
old  man,  which  made  me  blush  still  more. 

18 


Cfie  Purple  LanD 

We  then  settled  down  to  mate  and  quiet  conversation.  Sitting 
in  the  kitchen  on  the  skull  of  a  horse — a  common  article  of  furni- 
ture in  an  Oriental  rancho — was  a  boy  about  twelve  years  old,  one 
of  Lucero's  grandchildren,  with  a  very  beautiful  face.  His  feet  were 
bare  and  his  clothes  very  poor,  but  his  soft  dark  eyes  and  olive  face 
had  that  tender,  half-melancholy  expression  often  seen  in  children 
of  Spanish  origin,  which  is  always  so  strangely  captivating. 

"Where  is  your  guitar,  Cipriano?"  said  his  grandfather,  address- 
ing him,  whereupon  the  boy  rose  and  fetched  a  guitar,  which  he 
first  politely  offered  to  me. 

When  I  had  declined  it,  he  seated  himself  once  more  on  his 
polished  horse-skull  and  began  to  play  and  sing.  He  had  a  sweet 
boy's  voice,  and  one  of  his  ballads  took  my  fancy  so  much  that  I 
made  him  repeat  the  words  to  me  while  I  wrote  them  down  in  my 
notebook,  which  greatly  gratified  Lucero,  who  seemed  proud  of 
the  boy's  accomplishment.  Here  are  the  words  translated  almost 
literally,  therefore  without  rhymes,  and  I  only  regret  that  I  cannot 
furnish  my  musical  readers  with  the  quaint,  plaintive  air  they  were 
sung  to: 

0  let  me  go — O  let  me  go, 

Where  high  are  born  amidst  the  hills 
The  streams  that  gladden  all  the  south, 
And  o'er  the  grassy  desert  wide, 
Where  slakes  his  thirst  the  antlered  deer, 
Hurry  towards  the  great  green  ocean. 

The  stony  hills — the  stony  hills, 
With  azure  air-flowers  on  their  crags, 
Where  cattle  stray  unowned  by  man; 
The  monarch  of  the  herd  there  seems 
No  bigger  than  my*  hand  in  size, 
Roaming  along  the  tall,  steep  summit. 

1  know  them  well — I  know  them  well, 
Those  hills  of  God,  and  they  know  me; 
When  I  go  there  they  are  serene, 

But  when  the  stranger  visits  them 

Dark  rain-clouds  gather  round  their  tops — 

Over  the  earth  goes  forth  the  tempest. 

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Cfte  purple  LanD 

Then  tell  me  not — then  tell  me  not 

'Tis  sorrowful  to  dwell  alone; 

My  heart  within  the  city  pent 

Pines  for  the  desert's  liberty; 

The  streets  are  red  with  blood,  and  fear 

Makes  pale  and  mournful  women's  faces. 

0  bear  me  far — O  bear  me  far, 

On  swift,  sure  feet,  my  trusty  steed: 

1  do  not  love  the  burial-ground, 
But  I  shall  sleep  upon  the  plain, 

Where  long  green  grass  shall  round  me  wave — 
Over  me  graze  wild  herds  of  cattle. 


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Cfte  purple  LanB 


CHAPTER  III 

C.VJNG  the  eloquent  old  horse-tamer's  rancho  early  next 
morning,  I  continued  my  ride,  jogging  quietly  along  all  day 
and,  leaving  the  Florida  department  behind  me,  entered 
upon  that  of  the  Durazno.  Here  I  broke  my  journey  at  an  estancia 
where  I  had  an  excellent  opportunity  of  studying  the  manners  and 
customs  of  the  Orientals,  and  where  I  also  underwent  experiences  of 
a  mixed  character  and  greatly  increased  my  knowledge  of  the 
insect  world.  This  house,  at  which  I  arrived  an  hour  before  sunset 
to  ask  for  shelter  ("permission  to  unsaddle"  is  the  expression  the 
traveller  uses),  was  a  long,  low  structure,  thatched  with  rushes, 
but  the  low,  enormously  thick  walls  were  built  of  stone  from  the 
neighbouring  sierras,  in  pieces  of  all  shapes  and  sizes,  and  present- 
ing, outwardly,  the  rough  appearance  of  a  stone  fence.  How  these 
rudely  piled-up  stones,  without  cement  to  hold  them  together,  had 
not  fallen  down  was  a  mystery  to  me;  and  it  was  more  difficult 
still  to  imagine  why  the  rough  interior,  with  its  innumerable  dusty 
holes  and  interstices,  had  never  been  plastered. 

I  was  kindly  received  by  a  very  numerous  family,  consisting  of 
the  owner,  his  hoary-headed  old  mother-in-law,  his  wife,  three  sons, 
and  five  daughters,  all  grown  up.  There  were  also  several  small  chil- 
dren, belonging,  I  believe,  to  the  daughters,  notwithstanding  the 
fact  that  they  were  unmarried.  I  was  greatly  amazed  at  hearing  the 
name  of  one  of  these  youngsters.  Such  Christian  names  as  Trinity, 
Heart  of  Jesus,  Nativity,  John  of  God,  Conception,  Ascension,  In- 
carnation, are  common  enough,  but  these  had  scarcely  prepared 
me  to  meet  with  a  fellow-creature  named — well,  Circumcision! 
Besides  the  people,  there  were  dogs,  cats,  turkeys,  ducks,  geese,  and 
fowls  without  number.  Not  content  with  all  these  domestic  birds 
and  beasts,  they  also  kept  a  horrid,  shrieking  paroquet,  which  the 

21 


Cfte  purple  JUnD 

old  woman  was  incessantly  talking  to,  explaining  to  the  others 
all  the  time,  in  little  asides,  what  the  bird  said  or  wished  to  say, 
or,  rather,  what  she  imagined  it  wished  to  say.  There  were  also 
several  tame  young  ostriches,  always  hanging  about  the  big  kitchen 
or  living-room  on  the  look-out  for  a  brass  thimble,  or  iron  spoon, 
or  other  little  metallic  bonne  bouche  to  be  gobbled  up  when  no  one 
was  looking.  A  pet  armadillo  kept  trotting  in  and  out,  in  and  out, 
the  whole  evening,  and  a  lame  gull  was  always  standing  on  the 
threshold  in  everybody's  way,  perpetually  wailing  for  something  to 
eat — the  most  persistent  beggar  I  ever  met  in  my  life. 

The  people  were  very  jovial,  and  rather  industrious  for  so  in- 
dolent a  country.  The  land  was  their  own,  the  men  tended  the 
cattle,  of  which  they  appeared  to  have  a  large  number,  while  the 
women  made  cheeses,  rising  before  daylight  to  milk  the  cows. 

During  the  evening  two  or  three  young  men — neighbours,  I 
imagine,  who  were  paying  their  addresses  to  the  young  ladies  of 
the  establishment — dropped  in ;  and  after  a  plentiful  supper,  we  had 
singing  and  dancing  to  the  music  of  the  guitar,  on  which  every 
member  of  the  family— excepting  the  babies — could  strum  a  little. 

About  eleven  o'clock  I  retired  to  rest,  and,  stretching  myself  on 
my  rude  bed  of  rugs,  in  a  room  adjoining  the  kitchen,  I  blessed 
these  simple-minded,  hospitable  people.  Good  heavens,  thought  I 
to  myself,  what  a  glorious  field  is  waiting  here  for  some  new 
Theocritus!  How  unutterably  worn  out,  stilted,  and  artificial  seems 
all  the  so-called  pastoral  poetry  ever  written  when  one  sits  down 
to  supper  and  joins  in  the  graceful  Cielo  or  Pericon  in  one  of  these 
remote,  semi-barbarous  South  American  estanciasl  I  swear  I  will 
turn  poet  myself,  and  go  back  some  day  to  astonish  old  blase  Europe 

with  something  so — so What  the  deuce  was  that?  My  sleepy 

soliloquy  was  suddenly  brought  to  a  most  lame  and  impotent  con- 
clusion, for  I  had  heard  a  sound  of  terror — the  unmistakable 
zz-zzing  of  an  insect's  wings.  It  was  the  hateful  vinchuca.  Here 
was  an  enemy  against  which  British  pluck  and  six-shooters  are  of 
no  avail,  and  in  whose  presence  one  begins  to  experience  sensations 
which  are  not  usually  supposed  to  enter  into  the  brave  man's  breast. 
Naturalists  tell  us  that  it  is  the  Connor hinus  injectans,  but,  as  that 

22 


Cfce  purple  Land 

information  leaves  something  to  be  desired,  I  will  proceed  in  a  few 
words  to  describe  the  beast.  It  inhabits  the  entire  Chilian,  Argentine, 
and  Oriental  countries,  and  to  all  the  dwellers  in  this  vast  territory 
it  is  known  as  the  vinchuca;  for,  like  a  few  volcanoes,  deadly  vipers, 
cataracts,  and  other  sublime  natural  objects,  it  has  been  permitted  to 
keep  the  ancient  name  bestowed  on  it  by  the  aborigines.  It  is  all 
over  of  a  blackish-brown  colour,  as  broad  as  a  man's  thumb-nail, 
and  flat  as  the  blade  of  a  table-knife — when  fasting.  By  day  it 
hides,  bug-like,  in  holes  and  chinks,  but  no  sooner  are  the  candles 
put  out,  than  forth  it  comes  to  seek  whom  it  may  devour;  for,  like 
the  pestilence,  it  walks  in  darkness.  It  can  fly,  and  in  a  dark  room 
knows  where  you  are  and  can  find  you.  Having  selected  a  nice 
tender  part,  it  pierces  the  skin  with  its  proboscis  or  rostrum,  and 
sucks  vigorously  for  two  or  three  minutes,  and,  strange  to  say,  you 
do  not  feel  the  operation,  even  when  lying  wide  awake.  By  that 
time  the  creature,  so  attenuated  before,  has  assumed  the  figure, 
size,  and  general  appearance  of  a  ripe  gooseberry,  so  much  blood  has 
it  drawn  from  your  veins.  Immediately  after  it  has  left  you  the 
part  begins  to  swell  up  and  burn  as  if  stung  by  nettles.  That  the 
pain  should  come  after  and  not  during  the  operation  is  an  arrange- 
ment very  advantageous  to  the  vinchuca ,  and  I  greatly  doubt 
whether  any  other  blood-sucking  parasite  has  been  equally  favoured 
by  nature  in  this  respect. 

Imagine  then  my  sensations  when  I  heard  the  sound  of  not  one, 
but  two  or  three  pairs  of  wings !  I  tried  to  forget  the  sound  and  go 
to  sleep.  I  tried  to  forget  about  those  rough  old  walls  full  of  in- 
terstices— a  hundred  years  old  they  were,  my  host  had  informed 
me.  Most  interesting  old  house,  thought  I;  and  then  very  suddenly 
a  fiery  itching  took  possession  of  my  great  toe.  There  it  is!  said  I; 
heated  blood,  late  supper,  dancing,  and  all  that.  I  can  almost  imagine 
that  something  has  actually  bitten  me,  when  of  course  nothing  of 
that  kind  has  happened.  Then,  while  I  was  furiously  rubbing  and 
scratching  it,  feeling  a  badger-like  disposition  to  gnaw  it  off,  my 
left  arm  was  pierced  with  red-hot  needles.  My  attentions  were 
quickly  transferred  to  that  part ;  but  soon  my  busy  hands  were  called 
elsewhere,  like  a  couple  of  hard-worked  doctors  in  a  town  afflicted 

23 


Cfte  Putple  JtanD 

with  an  epidemic;  and  so  all  night  long,  with  only  occasional 
snatches  of  miserable  sleep,  the  contest  went  on. 

I  rose  early,  and,  going  to  a  wide  stream,  a  quarter  of  a  mile 
from  the  house,  took  a  plunge  which  greatly  refreshed  me  and 
gave  me  strength  to  go  in  quest  of  my  horse.  Poor  brute!  I  had 
intended  giving  him  a  day's  rest,  so  pleasant  and  hospitable  had 
the  people  shown  themselves;  but  now  I  shuddered  at  the  thought 
of  spending  another  night  in  such  a  purgatory.  I  found  him  so 
lame  that  he  could  scarcely  walk,  and  so  returned  to  the  house  on 
foot  and  very  much  cast  down.  My  host  consoled  me  by  assuring 
me  that  I  would  sleep  the  siesta  all  the  better  for  having  been 
molested  by  those  "little  things  that  go  about,"  for  in  this  very 
mild  language  he  described  the  affliction.  After  breakfast,  at  noon, 
acting  on  his  hint,  I  took  a  rug  to  the  shade  of  a  tree  and,  lying 
down,  quickly  fell  into  a  profound  sleep,  which  lasted  till  late  in 
the  afternoon. 

That  evening  visitors  came  again,  and  we  had  a  repetition  of 
the  singing,  dancing,  and  other  pastoral  amusements,  till  near  mid- 
night; then,  thinking  to  cheat  my  bedfellows  of  the  night  before, 
I  made  my  simple  bed  in  the  kitchen.  But  here  also  the  vile  vin- 
chucas  found  me,  and  there  were,  moreover,  dozens  of  fleas  that 
waged  a  sort  of  guerilla  warfare  all  night,  and  in  this  way  ex- 
hausted my  strength  and  distracted  my  attention,  while  the  more 
formidable  adversary  took  up  his  position.  My  sufferings  were  so 
great  that  before  daybreak  I  picked  up  my  rugs  and  went  out  a 
distance  from  the  house  to  lie  down  on  the  open  plain,  but  I  carried 
with  me  a  smarting  body  and  got  but  little  rest.  When  morning 
came  I  found  that  my  horse  had  not  yet  recovered  from  his 
lameness. 

"Do  not  be  in  a  hurry  to  leave  us,"  said  my  host,  when  I  spoke 
of  it.  "I  perceive  that  the  little  animals  have  again  fought  with  and 
defeated  you.  Do  not  mind  it;  in  time  you  will  grow  accustomed 
to  them." 

How  they  contrived  to  endure  it,  or  even  to  exist,  was  a  puzzle 
to  me;  but  possibly  the  vinchucas  respected  them,  and  only  dined 

24 


Cfte  purple  JLanD 

when,  like  the  giant  in  the  nursery  rhyme,  they  "smelt  the  blood 
of  an  Englishman." 

I  again  enjoyed  a  long  siesta,  and  when  night  came  resolved  to 
place  myself  beyond  the  reach  of  the  vampires,  and  so,  after  supper, 
went  out  to  sleep  on  the  plain.  About  midnight,  however,  a  sudden 
storm  of  wind  and  rain  drove  me  back  to  the  shelter  of  the  house, 
and  the  next  morning  I  rose  in  such  a  deplorable  state  that  I  de- 
liberately caught  and  saddled  my  horse,  though  the  poor  beast 
could  scarcely  put  one  foot  on  the  ground.  My  friends  laughed 
good-humouredly  when  they  saw  me  making  these  resolute  prepara- 
tions for  departure.  After  partaking  of  bitter  mate,  I  rose  and 
thanked  them  for  their  hospitality. 

"You  surely  do  not  intend  leaving  us  on  that  animal!"  said  my 
host.  "He  is  unfit  to  carry  you." 

"I  have  no  other,"  I  replied,  "and  am  anxious  to  reach  my 
destination." 

"Had  I  known  this  I  would  have  offered  you  a  horse  before," 
he  returned,  and  then  he  sent  one  of  his  sons  to  drive  the  horses 
of  the  cstancia  into  the  corral. 

Selecting  a  good-looking  animal  from  the  herd,  he  presented  it 
to  me,  and  as  I  did  not  have  money  enough  to  buy  a  fresh  horse 
whenever  I  wanted  one,  I  accepted  the  gift  very  gladly.  The  saddle 
was  quickly  transferred  to  my  new  acquisition,  and,  once  more 
thanking  these  good  people  and  bidding  adieu,  I  resumed  my 
ourney. 

When  I  gave  my  hand  before  leaving  to  the  youngest,  and  also, 
to  my  mind,  the  prettiest  of  the  five  daughters  of  the  house,  instead 
of  smiling  pleasantly  and  wishing  me  a  prosperous  journey,  like 
the  others,  she  was  silent,  and  darted  a  look  at  me,  which  seemed  to 
$ay,  "Go,  sir;  you  have  treated  me  badly,  and  you  insult  me  by 
offering  your  hand;  if  I  take  it,  it  is  not  because  I  feel  disposed  to 
forgive  you,  but  only  to  save  appearances." 

At  the  same  moment,  when  she  bestowed  that  glance  on  me 
which  said  so  much,  a  look  of  intelligence  passed  over  the  faces  of 
the  other  people  in  the  room.  All  this  revealed  to  me  that  I  had 
just  missed  a  very  pretty  little  idyllic  flirtation,  conducted  in  very 

25 


Cfte  Purple  JLanD 

novel  circumstances.  Love  cometh  up  as  a  flower,  and  men  and 
charming  women  naturally  flirt  when  brought  together.  Yet  it  was 
hard  to  imagine  how  I  could  have  started  a  flirtation  and  carried 
it  on  to  its  culminatory  point  in  that  great  public  room,  with  all 
those  eyes  on  me;  dogs,  babes,  and  cats  tumbling  about  my  feet; 
ostriches  staring  covetously  at  my  buttons  with  great  vacant  eyes; 
and  that  intolerable  paroquet  perpetually  reciting  "How  the  waters 
came  down  at  Lodore,"  in  its  own  shrieky,  beaky,  birdy,  hurdy- 
gurdy,  -parrot  language.  Tender  glances,  soft  whispered  words, 
hand-touchings,  and  a  thousand  little  personal  attentions,  showing 
which  way  the  emotions  tend,  would  scarcely  have  been  practicable 
in  such  a  place  and  in  such  conditions,  and  new  signs  and  symbols 
would  have  to  be  invented  to  express  the  feelings  of  the  heart. 
And  doubtless  these  Orientals,  living  all  together  in  one  great  room, 
with  their  children  and  pets,  like  our  very  ancient  ancestors,  the 
pastoral  Aryans,  do  possess  such  a  language.  And  this  pretty  lan- 
guage I  should  have  learnt  from  the  most  willing  of  teachers,  if 
those  venomous  vinchucas  had  not  dulled  my  brain  with  their 
persecutions  and  made  me  blind  to  a  matter  which  had  not  escaped 
the  observation  of  even  unconcerned  lookers-on.  Riding  away  from 
the  estancia,  the  feeling  I  experienced  at  having  finally  escaped  from 
these  execrable  "little  things  that  go  about"  was  not  one  of  unmixed 
satisfaction. 


26 


Purple  Land 


CHAPTER  IV 

CONTINUING  my  journey  through  the  Durazno  district, 
I  forded  the  pretty  River  Yi  and  entered  the  Tacuarembo 
department,  which  is  immensely  long,  extending  right 
away  to  the  Brazilian  frontier.  I  rode  over  its  narrowest  part,  how- 
ever, where  it  is  only  about  twenty-five  miles  wide;  then,  crossing 
two  very  curiously  named  rivers,  Rios  Salsipuedes  Chico  and  Salsi- 
puedes  Grande,  which  mean  Get-out-if-you-can  Rivers,  Little  and 
Big,  I  at  length  reached  the  termination  of  my  journey  in  the 
province  or  department  of  Paysandu.  The  Estancia  de  la  Vir- 
gen  de  los  Desamparados,  or,  to  put  it  very  shortly,  Vagabonds' 
Rest,  was  a  good-sized,  square  brick  house  built  on  very  high 
ground,  which  overlooked  an  immense  stretch  of  grassy,  undulat- 
ing country. 

There  was  no  plantation  about  the  house,  not  even  a  shade 
tree  or  cultivated  plant  of  any  description,  but  only  some  large 
corrales,  or  enclosures,  for  the  cattle,  of  which  there  were  six  or 
seven  thousand  head  on  the  land.  The  absence  of  shade  and 
greenery  gave  the  place  a  desolate,  uninviting  aspect,  but  if  I  was 
ever  to  have  any  authority  here  this  would  soon  be  changed.  The 
Mayordomo,  or  manager,  Don  Policarpo  Santierra  de  Penalosa, 
which,  roughly  done  into  English,  means  Polycarp  of  the  Holy 
Land  abounding  in  Slippery  Rocks,  proved  to  be  a  very  pleasant, 
affable  person.  He  welcomed  me  with  that  quiet  Oriental  polite- 
ness which  is  never  cold  and  never  effusive,  and  then  perused  the 
letter  from  Dona  Isidora.  Finally  he  said,  "I  am  willing,  my  friend, 
to  supply  you  with  all  the  conveniences  procurable  at  this  elevation; 
and,  for  the  rest,  you  know,  doubtless,  what  I  can  say  to  you.  A 
ready  understanding  requires  few  words.  Nevertheless,  there  is 
here  no  lack  of  good  beef,  and,  to  be  short,  you  will  do  me  a  great 

37 


Cjje  purple  JLanD 

favour  by  making  this  house  with  everything  it  contains  your  own, 
while  you  honour  us  by  remaining  in  it." 

After  delivering  himself  of  these  kindly  sentiments,  which  left 
me  rather  in  a  mist  as  to  my  prospects,  he  mounted  his  horse  and 
rode  off,  probably  on  some  very  important  affair ,  for  I  saw  no  more 
of  him  for  several  days. 

I  at  once  proceeded  to  establish  myself  in  the  kitchen.  No  per- 
son in  the  house  appeared  ever  to  pay  even  a  casual  visit  to  any 
other  room.  This  kitchen  was  vast  and  barn-like,  forty  feet  long  at 
least,  and  proportionately  wide;  the  roof  was  of  reeds,  and  the 
hearth,  placed  in  the  centre  of  the  floor,  was  a  clay  platform,  fenced 
round  with  cows'  shank-bones,  half  buried  and  standing  upright. 
Some  trivets  and  iron  kettles  were  scattered  about,  and  from  the 
centre  beam,  supporting  the  roof,  a  chain  and  hook  were  suspended 
to  which  a  vast  iron  pot  was  fastened.  One  more  article,  a  spit 
about  six  feet  long  for  roasting  meat,  completed  the  list  of  cooking 
utensils.  There  were  no  chairs,  tables,  knives,  or  forks;  everyone 
carried  his  own  knife,  and  at  meal-time  the  boiled  meat  was  emptied 
into  a  great  tin  dish,  whilst  the  roast  was  eaten  from  the  spit, 
each  one  laying  hold  with  his  fingers  and  cutting  his  slice.  The 
seats  were  logs  of  wood  and  horse-skulls.  The  household  was  com- 
posed of  one  woman,  an  ancient,  hideously  ugly,  grey-headed 
negress,  about  seventy  years  old,  and  eighteen  or  nineteen  men  of 
all  ages  and  sizes,  and  of  all  colours  from  parchment-white  to 
very  old  oak.  There  was  a  capatas,  or  overseer,  and  seven  or  eight 
paid  pcones,  the  others  being  all  agregados — that  is,  supernumeraries 
without  pay,  or,  to  put  it  plainly,  vagabonds  who  attach  themselves 
like  vagrant  dogs  to  establishments  of  this  kind,  lured  by  the 
abundance  of  flesh,  and  who  occasionally  assist  the  regular  pcones 
at  their  work,  and  also  do  a  little  gambling  and  stealing  to  keep 
themselves  in  small  change.  At  break  of  day  everyone  was  up 
sitting  by  the  hearth  sipping  bitter  mate  and  smoking  cigarettes; 
before  sunrise  all  were  mounted  and  away  over  the  surrounding 
country  to  gather  up  the  herds;  at  midday  they  were  back  again 
to  breakfast.  The  consumption  and  waste  of  meat  was  something 
frightful.  Frequently,  after  breakfast,  as  much  as  twenty  or  thirty 

28 


Cfte  Purple  JLanD 

pounds  of  boiled  and  roast  meat  would  be  thrown  into  a  wheel- 
barrow and  carried  out  to  the  dust-heap,  where  it  served  to  feed 
scores  of  hawks,  gulls,  and  vultures,  besides  the  dogs. 

Of  course,  I  was  only  an  agregado,  having  no  salary  or  regular 
occupation  yet.  Thinking,  however,  that  this  would  only  be  for  a 
time,  I  was  quite  willing  to  make  the  best  of  things,  and  very  soon 
became  fast  friends  with  my  fellow  agregados,  joining  heartily  in 
all  their  amusements  and  voluntary  labours. 

In  a  few  days  I  got  very  tired  of  living  exclusively  on  flesh,  for 
not  even  a  biscuit  was  "procurable  at  this  elevation";  and  as  for  a 
potato,  one  might  as  well  have  asked  for  a  plum-pudding.  It  oc- 
curred to  my  mind  at  last  that,  with  so  many  cows,  it  might  be 
possible  to  procure  some  milk  and  introduce  a  little  change  into 
our  diet.  In  the  evening  I  broached  the  subject,  proposing  that  on 
the  following  day  we  should  capture  a  cow  and  tame  her.  Some 
of  the  men  approved  of  the  suggestion,  remarking  that  they  had 
never  thought  of  it  themselves;  but  the  old  negress,  who,  being  the 
only  representative  of  the  fair  sex  present,  was  always  listened  to 
with  all  the  deference  due  to  her  position,  threw  herself  with  im- 
mense zeal  into  the  opposition.  She  affirmed  that  no  cow  had  been 
milked  at  that  establishment  since  its  owner  had  paid  it  a  visit  with 
his  young  wife  twelve  years  before.  A  milch-cow  was  then  kept, 
and  on  the  senora  partaking  of  a  large  quantity  of  milk  "before 
breaking  her  fast,"  it  produced  such  an  indigestion  in  her  that  they 
were  obliged  to  give  her  powdered  ostrich  stomach,  and  finally 
to  convey  her,  with  great  trouble,  in  an  ox-cart  to  Paysandu,  and 
thence  by  water  to  Montevideo.  The  owner  ordered  the  cow  to  be 
released,  and  never,  to  her  certain  knowledge,  had  cow  been  milked 
since  at  La  Virgen  de  los  Desamparados. 

These  ominous  croakings  produced  no  effect  on  me,  and  the  next 
day  I  returned  to  the  subject.  I  did  not  possess  a  lasso,  and  so  could 
not  undertake  to  capture  a  half-wild  cow  without  assistance.  One 
of  my  fellow  agregados  at  length  volunteered  to  help  me,  observing 
that  he  had  not  tasted  milk  for  several  years,  and  was  inclined  to 
renew  his  acquaintance  with  that  singular  beverage.  This  new-found 
friend  in  need  merits  being  formally  introduced  to  the  reader.  His 

29 


Cfte  Purple  LanD 

name  was  Epifanio  Claro.  He  was  tall  and  thin,  and  had  an  idiotic 
expression  on  his  long,  sallow  face.  His  cheeks  were  innocent  of 
whiskers,  and  his  lank,  black  hair,  parted  in  the  middle,  fell  to 
his  shoulders,  enclosing  his  narrow  face  between  a  pair  of  raven's 
wings.  He  had  very  large,  light-coloured,  sheepish-looking  eyes, 
and  his  eyebrows  bent  up  like  a  couple  of  Gothic  arches,  leaving 
a  narrow  strip  above  them  that  formed  the  merest  apology  for  a 
forehead.  This  facial  peculiarity  had  won  for  him  the  nickname  of 
Cejas  (Eyebrows),  by  which  he  was  known  to  his  intimates.  He 
spent  most  of  his  time  strumming  on  a  wretched  old  cracked 
guitar,  and  singing  amorous  ballads  in  a  lugubrious,  whining 
falsetto,  which  reminded  me  not  a  little  of  that  hungry,  complain- 
ing gull  I  had  met  at  the  estancia  in  Durazno.  For,  though  poor 
Epifanio  had  an  absorbing  passion  for  music,  Nature  had  unkindly 
withheld  from  him  the  power  to  express  it  in  a  manner  pleasing 
to  others.  I  must,  however,  in  justice  to  him,  allow  that  he  gave 
a  preference  to  ballads  or  compositions  of  a  thoughtful,  not  to  say 
metaphysical,  character.  I  took  the  trouble  of  translating  the  words 
of  one  literally,  and  here  they  are: 

Yesterday  my  senses  opened, 
At  a  rap-a-tap  from  Reason, 
Inspiring  in  me  an  intention 
Which  I  never  had  before, 
Seeing  that  through  all  my  days 
My  life  has  been  just  what  it  is. 
Therefore  when  I  rose  I  said, 
To-day  shall  be  as  yesterday, 
Since  Reason  tells  me  I  have  been 
From  day  to  day  the  self-same  thing. 

This  is  very  little  to  judge  from,  being  only  a  fourth  part  of 
the  song;  but  it  is  a  fair  specimen,  and  the  rest  is  no  clearer.  Of 
course  it  is  not  to  be  supposed  that  Epifanio  Claro,  an  illiterate 
person,  took  in  the  whole  philosophy  of  these  lines;  still,  it  is 
probable  that  a  subtle  ray  or  two  of  their  deep  meaning  touched 
his  intellect,  to  make  him  a  wiser  and  a  sadder  man. 

Accompanied  by  this  strange  individual,  and  with  the  grave 

30 


Oe  Purple  LanD 

permission  of  the  capatas,  who  declined,  however,  in  words  of 
many  syllables,  all  responsabilidad  in  the  matter,  we  went  out  to 
the  grazing  grounds  in  quest  of  a  promising-looking  cow.  Very 
soon  we  found  one  to  our  liking.  She  was  followed  by  a  small  calf, 
not  more  than  a  week  old,  and  her  distended  udder  promised  a 
generous  supply  of  milk ;  but  unfortunately  she  was  fierce-tempered, 
and  had  horns  as  sharp  as  needles. 

"We  will  cut  them  by  and  by,"  shouted  Eyebrows. 

He  then  lassoed  the  cow,  and  I  captured  the  calf,  and  lifting  it 
into  the  saddle  before  rne,  started  homewards.  The  cow  followed 
me  at  a  furious  pace,  and  behind  came  Claro  at  a  swinging  gallop. 
Possibly  he  was  a  little  too  confident,  and  carelessly  let  his  captive 
pull  the  line  that  held  her;  anyhow,  she  turned  suddenly  on  him, 
charged  with  amazing  fury,  and  sent  one  of  her  horrid  horns  deep 
into  the  belly  of  his  horse.  He  was,  however,  equal  to  the  occasion, 
first  dealing  her  a  smart  blow  on  the  nose,  which  made  her  recoil 
for  a  moment;  he  then  severed  the  lasso  with  his  knife,  and,  shout- 
ing to  me  to  drop  the  calf,  made  his  escape.  We  pulled  up  as  soon 
as  we  had  reached  a  safe  distance,  Claro  drily  remarking  that  the 
lasso  had  been  borrowed,  and  that  the  horse  belonged  to  the 
estancia,  so  that  we  had  lost  nothing.  He  alighted,  and  stitched  up 
the  great  gash  in  the  poor  brute's  belly,  using  for  a  thread  a  few 
hairs  plucked  from  its  tail.  It  was  a  difficult  task,  or  would  have 
been  so  to  me,  as  he  had  to  bore  holes  in  the  animal's  hide  with  his 
knife-point,  but  it  seemed  quite  easy  to  him.  Taking  the  remaining 
portion  of  the  severed  lasso,  he  drew  it  round  the  hind  and  one 
of  the  fore  feet  of  his  horse,  and  threw  him  to  the  ground  with  a 
dexterous  jerk;  then,  binding  him  there,  performed  the  operations 
of  sewing  up  the  wound  in  about  two  minutes. 

"Will  he  live?"  I  asked. 

"How  can  I  tell  ?"  he  answered  indifferently.  "I  only  know  that 
now  he  will  be  able  to  carry  me  home ;  if  he  dies  afterwards,  what 
will  it  matter?" 

We  then  mounted  and  rode  quietly  home.  Of  course,  we  were 
chafTed  without  mercy,  especially  by  the  old  negress,  who  had  fore- 
seen all  along,  she  told  us,  just  how  it  would  be.  One  would  have 


Cfte  purple  JLanD 

imagined,  to  hear  this  old  black  creature  talk,  that  she  looked  on 
milk-drinking  as  one  of  the  greatest  moral  offences  man  could  be 
guilty  of,  and  that  in  this  case  Providence  had  miraculously  inter- 
posed to  prevent  us  from  gratifying  our  depraved  appetites. 

Eyebrows  took  it  all  very  coolly. 

"Do  not  notice  them,"  he  said  to  me.  "The  lasso  was  not  ours, 
the  horse  was  not  ours,  what  does  it  matter  what  they  say?" 

The  owner  of  the  lasso,  who  had  good-naturedly  lent  it  to  us, 
roused  himself  on  hearing  this.  He  was  a  very  big,  rough-looking 
man,  his  face  covered  with  an  immense  shaggy  black  beard.  I  had 
taken  him  for  a  good-humoured  specimen  of  the  giant  kind  before, 
but  I  now  changed  my  opinion  of  him  when  his  angry  passions 
began  to  rise.  Bias,  or  Barbudo,  as  we  called  the  giant,  was  seated 
on  a  log  sipping  mate. 

"Perhaps  you  take  me  for  a  sheep,  sirs,  because  you  see  me 
wrapped  in  skins,"  he  observed;  "but  let  me  tell  you  this,  the  lasso 
I  lent  you  must  be  returned  to  me." 

"These  words  are  not  for  us,"  remarked  Eyebrows,  addressing 
me,  "but  for  the  cow  that  carried  away  his  lasso  on  her  horns — 
curse  them  for  being  so  sharp!" 

"No,  sir,"  returned  Barbudo,  "do  not  deceive  yourself;  they  are 
not  for  the  cow,  but  for  the  fool  that  lassoed  the  cow.  And  I  prom- 
ise you,  Epifanio,  that  if  it  is  not  restored  to  me,  this  thatch  over 
our  heads  will  not  be  broad  enough  to  shelter  us  both." 

"I  am  pleased  to  hear  it,"  said  the  other,  "for  we  are  short  of 
seats;  and  when  you  leave  us,  the  one  you  now  encumber  with  your 
carcass  will  be  occupied  by  some  more  meritorious  person." 

"You  can  say  what  you  like,  for  no  one  has  yet  put  a  padlock 
on  your  lips,"  said  Barbudo,  raising  his  voice  to  a  shout;  "but  you 
are  not  going  to  plunder  me;  and  if  my  lasso  is  not  restored  to  me, 
then  I  swear  I  will  make  myself  a  new  one  out  of  a  human  hide." 

"Then,"  said  Eyebrows,  "the  sooner  you  provide  yourself  with 
a  hide  for  the  purpose,  the  better,  for  I  will  never  return  the  lasso 
to  you;  for  who  am  I  to  fight  against  Providence,  that  took  it  out 
of  my  hands  ?" 

To  this  Barbudo  replied  furiously: 

32 


Cfte  purple  JLanD 

"Then  I  will  have  it  from  this  miserable  starved  foreigner,  who 
comes  here  to  learn  to  eat  meat  and  put  himself  on  an  equality 
with  men.  Evidently  he  was  weaned  too  soon;  but  if  the  starveling 
hungers  for  infant's  food,  let  him  in  future  milk  the  cats  that 
warm  themselves  beside  the  fire,  and  can  be  caught  without  a  lasso, 
even  by  a  Frenchman!" 

I  could  not  endure  the  brute's  insults,  and  sprang  up  from  my 
seat.  I  happened  to  have  a  large  knife  in  my  hand,  for  we  were  just 
preparing  to  make  an  assault  on  the  roasted  ribs  of  a  cow,  and 
my  first  impulse  was  to  throw  down  the  knife  and  give  him  a  blow 
with  my  fist.  Had  I  attempted  it  I  should  most  probably  have  paid 
dearly  for  my  rashness.  The  instant  I  rose  Barbudo  was  on  me, 
knife  in  hand.  He  aimed  a  furious  blow,  which  luckily  missed  me, 
and  at  the  same  moment  I  struck  him,  and  he  reeled  back  with  a 
dreadful  gash  on  his  face.  It  was  all  done  in  a  second  of  time,  and 
before  the  others  could  interpose;  in  another  moment  they  dis- 
armed us,  and  set  about  bathing  the  barbarian's  wound.  During 
the  operation,  which  I  daresay  was  very  painful,  for  the  old  negress 
insisted  on  having  the  wound  bathed  with  rum  instead  of  water, 
the  brute  blasphemed  outrageously,  vowing  that  he  would  cut  out 
my  heart  and  eat  it  stewed  with  onions  and  seasoned  with  cummin 
seed  and  various  other  condiments. 

I  have  often  since  thought  of  that  sublime  culinary  conception 
of  Bias  the  barbarian.  There  must  have  been  a  spark  of  wild  Ori- 
ental genius  in  his  bovine  brains. 

When  the  exhaustion  caused  by  rage,  pain,  and  loss  of  blood 
had  at  length  reduced  him  to  silence,  the  old  negress  turned  on 
him,  exclaiming  that  he  had  been  rightly  punished,  for  had  he 
not,  in  spite  of  her  timely  warnings,  lent  his  lasso  to  enable  these 
two  heretics  (for  that  is  what  she  called  us)  to  capture  a  cow? 
Well,  his  lasso  was  lost;  then  his  friends,  with  the  gratitude  only 
to  be  expected  from  milk-drinkers,  had  turned  round  and  well- 
nigh  killed  him. 

After  supper  the  capatas  got  me  alone,  and  with  excessive  friend- 
liness of  manner,  and  an  abundance  of  circumlocutory  phrases, 
advised  me  to  leave  the  estancia,  as  it  would  not  be  safe  for  me  to 

33 


Ci)c  purple  LanD 

remain.  I  replied  that  I  was  not  to  blame,  having  struck  the  man 
in  self-defence ;  also,  that  I  had  been  sent  to  the  estanda  by  a  friend 
of  the  Mayordomo,  and  was  determined  to  see  him  and  give  him 
my  version  of  the  affair. 

The  capatas  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  lit  a  cigarette. 

At  length  Don  Policarpo  returned,  and  when  I  told  him  my 
story  he  laughed  slightly,  but  said  nothing.  In  the  evening  I  re- 
minded him  of  the  subject  of  the  letter  I  had  brought  from  Monte- 
video, asking  him  whether  it  was  his  intention  to  give  me  some 
employment  on  the  estanda. 

"You  see,  my  friend,"  he  replied,  "to  employ  you  now  would 
be  useless,  however  valuable  your  services  might  be,  for  by  this 
time  the  authorities  will  have  information  of  your  fight  with  Bias. 
In  the  course  of  a  few  days  you  may  expect  them  here  to  make 
inquiries  into  that  affair,  and  it  is  probable  that  you  and  Bias  will 
both  be  taken  into  custody." 

"What  then  would  you  advise  me  to  do?"  I  asked. 

His  answer  was,  that  when  the  ostrich  asked  the  deer  what  he 
would  advise  him  to  do  when  the  hunters  appeared,  the  deer's 
reply  was,  "Run  away." 

I  laughed  at  his  pretty  apologue,  and  answered  that  I  did  not 
think  the  authorities  would  trouble  themselves  about  me — also  that 
I  was  not  fond  of  running  away. 

Eyebrows,  who  had  hitherto  been  rather  inclined  to  patronise 
me  and  take  me  under  his  protection,  now  became  very  warm  in 
his  friendship,  which  was,  however,  dashed  with  an  air  of  defer- 
ence when  we  were  alone  together,  but  in  company  he  was  fond 
of  parading  his  familiarity  with  me.  I  did  not  quite  understand 
this  change  of  manner  at  first,  but  by  and  by  he  took  me  mysteri- 
ously aside  and  became  extremely  confidential. 

"Do  not  distress  yourself  about  Barbudo,"  he  said.  "He  will 
never  again  presume  to  lift  his  hand  against  you;  and  if  you  will 
only  condescend  to  speak  kindly  to  him,  he  will  be  your  humble 
slave  and  proud  to  have  you  wipe  your  greasy  fingers  on  his  beard. 
Take  no  notice  of  what  the  Mayordomo  says,  he  also  is  afraid  of 
you.  If  the  authorities  take  you,  it  will  only  be  to  see  what  you 

34 


Cfce  putple  JLanD 


can  give  them:  they  will  not  keep  you  long,  for  you  are  a  foreigner, 
and  cannot  be  made  to  serve  in  the  army.  But  when  you  are  again 
at  liberty  it  will  be  necessary  for  you  to  kill  someone." 

Very  much  amazed,  I  asked  him  why. 

"You  see,"  he  replied,  "your  reputation  as  a  fighter  is  now 
established  in  this  department,  and  there  is  nothing  men  envy 
more.  It  is  the  same  as  in  our  old  game  of  pato,  where  the  man  that 
carries  the  duck  away  is  pursued  by  all  the  others,  and  before  they 
give  up  chasing  him  he  must  prove  that  he  can  keep  what  he  has 
taken.  There  are  several  fighters  you  do  not  know,  who  have 
resolved  to  pick  quarrels  with  you  in  order  to  try  your  strength. 
In  your  next  fight  you  must  not  wound,  but  kill,  or  you  will  have 
no  peace." 

I  was  greatly  disturbed  at  this  result  of  my  accidental  victory 
over  Bias  the  Bearded,  and  did  not  at  all  appreciate  the  kind  of 
greatness  my  officious  friend  Claro  seemed  so  determined  to  thrust 
upon  me.  It  was  certainly  flattering  to  hear  that  I  had  already 
established  my  reputation  as  a  good  fighter  in  so  warlike  a  depart- 
ment as  Paysandu,  but  then  the  consequences  entailed  were  dis- 
agreeable, to  say  the  least  of  it;  and  so,  while  thanking  Eyebrows 
for  his  friendly  hint,  I  resolved  to  quit  the  estancia  at  once.  I  would 
not  run  away  from  the  authorities,  since  I  was  not  an  evil-doer, 
but  from  the  necessity  of  killing  people  for  the  sake  of  peace  and 
quietness  I  certainly  would  depart.  And  early  next  morning,  to  my 
friend's  intense  disgust,  and  without  telling  my  plans  to  anyone, 
I  mounted  my  horse  and  quitted  Vagabond's  Rest  to  pursue  my 
adventures  elsewhere. 


35 


Cfte  purple  JLanD 


<0™<0*^t^<^i<0v*0*&*<0^&<^<*0^0™<0^G^ 


CHAPTER  V 

IAITH  in  the  estancia  as  a  field  for  my  activities  had  been 
weak  from  the  first;  the  Mayordomo's  words  on  his  return 
had  extinguished  it  altogether;  and  after  hearing  that  ostrich 
parable  I  had  only  remained  from  motives  of  pride.  I  now  deter- 
mined to  go  back  towards  Montevideo,  not,  however,  over  the 
route  I  had  come  by,  but  making  a  wide  circuit  into  the  interior 
of  the  country,  where  I  would  explore  a  new  field,  and  perhaps  meet 
with  some  occupation  at  one  of  the  estancias  on  the  way.  Riding 
in  a  south-westerly  direction  towards  the  Rio  Mario  in  the  Tacu- 
arembo  department,  I  soon  left  the  plains  of  Paysandu  behind  me, 
and,  being  anxious  to  get  well  away  from  a  neighbourhood  where 
I  was  expected  to  kill  someone,  I  did  not  rest  till  I  had  ridden  about 
twenty-five  miles.  At  noon  I  stopped  to  get  some  refreshment  at  a 
little  roadside  pulperia.  It  was  a  wretched-looking  place,  and  be- 
hind the  iron  bars  protecting  the  interior,  giving  it  the  appearance 
of  a  wild  beast's  cage,  lounged  the  storekeeper  smoking  a  cigar. 
Outside  the  bar  were  two  men  with  English-looking  faces.  One 
was  a  handsome  young  fellow  with  a  somewhat  worn  and  dissi- 
pated look  on  his  bronzed  face;  he  was  leaning  against  the  counter, 
cigar  in  mouth,  looking  slightly  tipsy,  I  thought,  and  wore  a  large 
revolver  slung  ostentatiously  at  his  waist.  His  companion  was  a  big, 
heavy  man,  with  immense  whiskers  sprinkled  with  grey,  who  was 
evidently  very  drunk,  for  he  was  lying  full-length  on  a  bench,  his 
face  purple  and  swollen,  snoring  loudly.  I  asked  for  bread,  sardines, 
and  wine,  and,  careful  to  observe  the  custom  of  the  country  I 
was  in,  duly  invited  the  tipsy  young  man  to  join  in  the  repast. 
An  omission  of  this  courtesy  might,  amongst  proud  and  sensitive 
Orientals,  involve  one  in  a  sanguinary  quarrel,  and  of  quarrelling 
I  had  just  then  had  enough. 

36 


Cfte  Purple  JLanD 

He  declined  with  thanks,  and  entered  into  conversation  with 
me;  then  the  discovery,  quickly  made,  that  we  were  compatriots 
gave  us  both  great  pleasure.  He  at  once  offered  to  take  me  to  his 
house  with  him,  and  gave  a  glowing  account  of  the  free,  jovial 
life  he  led  in  company  with  several  other  Englishmen — sons  of 
gentlemen,  every  one  of  them,  he  assured  me — who  had  bought 
a  piece  of  land  and  settled  down  to  sheep-farming  in  this  lonely 
district.  I  gladly  accepted  the  invitation,  and  when  we  had  finished 
our  glasses  he  proceeded  to  wake  the  sleeper. 

"Hullo,  I  say,  Cap,  wake  up,  old  boy,"  shouted  my  new  friend. 
"Quite  time  to  go  home,  don't  you  know.  That's  right — up  you 
come.  Now  let  me  introduce  you  to  Mr.  Lamb.  I'm  sure  he's  an 
acquisition.  What,  off  again!  Damn  it,  old  Cloud,  that's  unreason- 
able, to  say  the  least  of  it." 

At  length,  after  a  great  deal  of  shouting  and  shaking,  he  suc- 
ceeded in  rousing  his  drunken  companion,  who  staggered  up  and 
stared  at  me  in  an  imbecile  manner. 

"Now  let  me  introduce  you,"  said  the  other.  "Mr.  Lamb.  My 
friend,  Captain  Cloudesley  Wriothesley.  Bravo!  Steady,  old  cock — 
now  shake  hands." 

The  Captain  said  nothing,  but  took  my  hand,  swaying  forwards 
as  if  about  to  embrace  me.  We  then  with  considerable  difficulty 
got  him  on  to  his  saddle  and  rode  off  together,  keeping  him  be- 
tween us  to  prevent  him  from  falling  off.  Half  an  hour's  ride 
brought  us  to  my  host  Mr.  Vincent  Winchcombe's  house.  I  had  pic- 
tured to  myself  a  charming  little  homestead,  buried  in  cool  greenery 
and  flowers,  and  filled  with  pleasant  memories  of  dear  old  Eng- 
land; I  was,  therefore,  grievously  disappointed  to  find  that  his 
"home"  was  only  a  mean-looking  rancho,  with  a  ditch  round  it, 
protecting  some  ploughed  or  dug-up  ground,  on  which  not  one 
green  thing  appeared.  Mr.  Winchcombe  explained,  however,  that 
he  had  not  yet  had  time  to  cultivate  much.  "Only  vegetables  and 
such  things,  don't  you  know,"  he  said. 

"I  don't  see  them,"  I  returned. 

"Well,  no;  we  had  a  lot  of  caterpillars  and  blister  beetles  and 
things,  and  they  ate  everything  up,  don't  you  know,"  said  he. 

37 


Cfte  purple  JLanD 

The  room  into  which  he  conducted  me  contained  no  furniture 
except  a  large  deal  table  and  some  chairs;  also  a  cupboard,  a  long 
mantelpiece,  and  some  shelves  against  the  walls.  On  every  avail- 
able place  were  pipes,  pouches,  revolvers,  cartridge-boxes,  and  empty 
bottles.  On  the  table  were  tumblers,  cups,  a  sugar-basin,  a  mon- 
strous tin  teapot,  and  a  demijohn,  which  I  soon  ascertained  was 
half-full  of  Brazilian  rum,  or  cana.  Round  the  table  five  men  were 
seated  smoking,  drinking  tea  and  rum,  and  talking  excitedly,  all 
of  them  more  or  less  intoxicated.  They  gave  me  a  hearty  welcome, 
making  me  join  them  at  the  table,  pouring  out  tea  and  rum  for  me, 
and  generously  pushing  pipes  and  pouches  towards  me. 

"You  see,"  said  Mr.  Winchcombe,  in  explanation  of  this  con- 
vivial scene,  "there  are,  altogether,  ten  of  us  settlers  here  going  in 
for  sheep-farming  and  that  sort  of  thing.  Four  of  us  \have  already 
built  houses  and  bought  sheep  and  horses.  The  other  six  fellows  live 
with  us  from  house  to  house,  don't  you  know.  Well,  we've  made 
a  jolly  arrangement — old  Cloud — Captain  Cloud,  don't  you  know, 
first  suggested  it — and  it  is  that  every  day  one  of  the  four— the 
Glorious  Four  we  are  called — keeps  open  house;  and  it's  considered 
the  right  thing  for  the  other  nine  fellows  to  drop  in  on  him  some 
time  during  the  day,  just  to  cheer  him  up  a  bit.  Well,  we  soon  made 
the  discovery — old  Cloud,  I  fancy,  made  it — that  tea  and  rum  were 
about  the  best  things  to  have  on  these  occasions.  To-day  it  was  my 
day,  and  to-morrow  it  will  be  some  other  fellow's,  don't  you  know. 
And,  by  Jove,  how  lucky  I  was  to  meet  you  at  the  pulperia!  It  will 
be  ever  so  much  jollier  now." 

I  had  certainly  not  stumbled  upon  a  charming  little  English 
paradise  in  this  Oriental  wilderness,  and  as  it  always  makes  me  un- 
comfortable to  see  young  men  drifting  into  intemperate  habits  and 
making  asses  of  themselves  generally,  I  was  not  rapturously  de- 
lighted with  "old  Cloud's"  system.  Still,  I  was  glad  to  find  myself 
with  Englishmen  in  this  distant  country,  and  in  the  end  I  suc- 
ceeded in  making  myself  tolerably  happy.  The  discovery  that  I 
had  a  voice  pleased  them  greatly,  and  when,  somewhat  excited 
from  the  effects  of  strong  cavendish,  rum,  and  black  tea,  I  roared 
out: 

38 


Oc  purple 

And  may  his  soul  in  heaven  dwell 
Who  first  found  out  the  leather  hotel, 

they  all  got  up  and  drank  my  health  in  big  tumblers,  and  declared 
they  would  never  let  me  leave  the  colony. 

Before  evening  the  guests  departed,  all  except  the  Captain.  He 
had  sat  with  us  at  the  table,  but  was  too  far  gone  in  his  cups  to  take 
part  in  the  boisterous  fun  and  conversation.  Once  in  about  every 
five  minutes  he  had  implored  someone  in  a  husky  voice  to  give 
him  a  light  for  his  pipe,  then,  after  two  or  three  ineffectual  puffs, 
he  would  let  it  go  out  again.  He  had  also  attempted  two  or  three 
times  to  join  in  the  chorus  of  a  song,  but  soon  relapsed  again  into 
his  imbecile  condition. 

Next  day,  however,  when  he  sat  down  refreshed  by  a  night's 
sleep  to  breakfast,  I  found  him  a  very  agreeable  fellow.  He  had  no 
house  of  his  own  yet,  not  having  received  his  money  from  home, 
he  confidentially  informed  me,  but  lived  about,  breakfasting  in  one 
house,  dining  in  a  second,  and  sleeping  in  a  third.  "Never  mind," 
he  would  say,  "by  and  by  it  will  be  my  turn;  then  I  will  receive 
you  all  every  day  for  six  weeks  to  make  it  all  square." 

None  of  the  colonists  did  any  work,  but  all  spent  their  time 
lounging  about  and  visiting  each  other,  trying  to  make  their  dull 
existence  endurable  by  perpetual  smoking  and  tea  and  rum  drink- 
ing. They  had  tried,  they  told  me,  ostrich-hunting,  visiting  their 
native  neighbours,  partridge-shooting,  horse-racing,  etc.;  but  the 
partridges  were  too  tame  for  them,  they  could  never  catch  the 
ostriches,  the  natives  didn't  understand  them,  and  they  had  finally 
given  up  all  these  so-called  amusements.  In  each  house  a  peon 
was  kept  to  take  care  of  the  flock  and  to  cook,  and  as  the  sheep 
appeared  to  take  care  of  themselves,  and  the  cooking  merely  meant 
roasting  a  piece  of  meat  on  a  spit,  there  was  very  little  for  the  hired 
men  to  do. 

"Why  don't  you  do  these  things  for  yourselves?"  I  innocently 
asked. 

"I  fancy  it  wouldn't  quite  be  the  right  thing,  don't  you  know," 
said  Mr.  Winchcombe. 

39 


Cbe  purple  JLanD 

"No,"  said  the  Captain  gravely,  "we  haven't  quite  come  down 
to  that  yet." 

I  was  greatly  surprised  to  hear  them.  I  had  seen  Englishmen 
sensibly  roughing  it  in  other  places,  but  the  lofty  pride  of  these 
ten  rum-drinking  gentlemen  was  quite  a  new  experience  to  me. 

Having  spent  a  somewhat  listless  morning,  I  was  invited  to 
accompany  them  to  the  house  of  Mr.  Bingley,  one  of  the  Glorious 
Four.  Mr.  Bingley  was  really  a  very  nice  young  fellow,  living  in  a 
house  far  more  worthy  of  the  name  than  the  slovenly  rancho 
tenanted  by  his  neighbour  Winchcombe.  He  was  the  favourite  of 
the  colonists,  having  more  money  than  the  others,  and  keeping 
two  servants.  Always  on  his  reception-day  he  provided  his  guests 
with  hot  bread  and  fresh  butter,  as  well  as  with  the  indispensable 
rum-bottle  and  teapot.  It  therefore  happened  that,  when  his  turn 
came  round  to  keep  open  house,  not  one  of  the  other  nine  colonists 
was  absent  from  his  table. 

Soon  after  our  arrival  at  Bingley's  the  others  began  to  appear, 
each  one  on  entering  taking  a  seat  at  the  hospitable  board,  and 
adding  another  cloud  to  the  dense  volume  of  tobacco  smoke  obscur- 
ing the  room.  There  was  a  great  deal  of  hilarious  conversation; 
songs  were  sung,  and  a  vast  amount  of  tea,  rum,  bread  and  butter, 
and  tobacco  consumed;  but  it  was  a  wearisome  entertainment,  and 
by  the  time  it  was  over  I  felt  heartily  sick  of  this  kind  of  life. 

Before  separating,  after  "John  Peel"  had  been  sung  with  great 
enthusiasm,  someone  proposed  that  we  should  get  up  a  fox-hunt  in 
real  English  style.  Everyone  agreed,  glad  of  anything,  I  suppose,  to 
break  the  monotony  of  such  an  existence,  and  next  day  we  rode 
out,  followed  by  about  twenty  dogs,  of  various  breeds  and  sizes, 
brought  together  from  all  the  houses.  After  some  searching  about 
in  the  most  likely  places,  we  at  length  started  a  fox  from  a  bed  of 
dark-leafed  mio-mio  bushes.  He  made  straight  away  for  a  range 
of  hills  about  three  miles  distant,  and  over  a  beautifully  smooth 
plain,  so  that  we  had  a  very  good  prospect  of  running  him  down. 
Two  of  the  hunters  had  provided  themselves  with  horns,  which 
they  blew  incessantly,  while  the  others  all  shouted  at  the  top  of  their 

40 


Cije  purple  Land 

lungs,  so  that  our  chase  was  a  very  noisy  one.  The  fox  appeared  to 
understand  his  danger  and  to  know  that  his  only  chance  of  escape 
lay  in  keeping  up  his  strength  till  the  refuge  of  the  hills  was  reached. 
Suddenly,  however,  he  changed  his  course,  this  giving  us  a  great 
advantage,  for  by  making  a  short  cut  we  were  all  soon  close  at  his 
heels,  with  only  the  wide  level  plain  before  us.  But  reynard  had 
his  reasons  for  what  he  did ;  he  had  spied  a  herd  of  cattle,  and  in 
a  very  few  moments  had  overtaken  and  mixed  with  them.  The 
herd,  struck  with  terror  at  our  shouts  and  horn-blowing,  instantly 
scattered  and  flew  in  all  directions,  so  that  we  were  able  still  to  keep 
our  quarry  in  sight.  Far  in  advance  of  us  the  panic  in  the  cattle 
ran  on  from  herd  to  herd,  swift  as  light,  and  we  could  see  them 
miles  away  fleeing  from  us,  while  their  hoarse  bellowings  and 
thundering  tread  came  borne  by  the  wind  faintly  to  our  ears.  Our 
fat  lazy  dogs  ran  no  faster  than  our  horses,  but  still  they  laboured 
on,  cheered  by  incessant  shouts,  and  at  last  ran  into  the  first  fox 
ever  properly  hunted  in  the  Banda  Oriental. 

The  chase,  which  had  led  us  far  from  home,  ended  close  to  a 
large  cstancia  house,  and  while  we  stood  watching  the  dogs  worry- 
ing their  victim  to  death,  the  capatas  of  the  establishment,  accom- 
panied by  three  men,  rode  out  to  inquire  who  we  were,  and  what 
we  were  doing.  He  was  a  small  dark  native,  wearing  a  very  pic- 
turesque costume,  and  addressed  us  with  extreme  politeness. 

"Will  you  tell  me,  senores,  what  strange  animal  you  have  cap- 
tured?" he  asked. 

"A  fox,"  shouted  Mr.  Bingley,  triumphantly  waving  the  brush, 
which  he  had  just  cut  off,  over  his  head.  "In  our  country — in 
England — we  hunt  the  fox  with  dogs,  and  we  have  been  hunting 
after  the  manner  of  our  country." 

The  capatas  smiled,  and  replied  that,  if  we  were  disposed  to 
join  him,  it  would  afford  him  great  pleasure  to  show  us  a  hunt 
after  the  manner  of  the  Banda  Oriental. 

We  consented  gladly,  and,  mounting  our  horses,  set  off  at  a 
swinging  gallop  after  the  capatas  and  his  men.  We  soon  came  to  a 
small  herd  of  cattle;  the  capatas  dashed  after  them,  and,  unloosen- 


Cbe  Purple  LanD 

ing  the  coils  of  his  lasso,  flung  the  noose  dexterously  over  the  horns 
of  a  fat  heifer  he  had  singled  out,  then  started  homewards  at  a 
tremendous  pace.  The  cow,  urged  forward  by  the  men,  who  rode 
close  behind,  and  pricked  it  with  their  knives,  rushed  on,  bellowing 
with  rage  and  pain,  trying  to  overtake  the  capatas,  who  kept  just 
out  of  reach  of  its  horns;  and  in  this  way  we  quickly  reached  the 
house.  One  of  the  men  now  flung  his  lasso  and  caught  the  beast's 
hind  leg;  pulled  in  two  opposite  directions,  it  quickly  came  to  a 
standstill;  the  other  men,  now  dismounting,  first  ham-strung,  then 
ran  a  long  knife  into  its  throat.  Without  removing  the  hide,  the 
carcass  was  immediately  cut  up,  and  the  choice  pieces  flung  on  to 
a  great  fire  of  wood,  which  one  of  the  men  had  been  making.  In  an 
hour's  time  we  all  sat  down  to  a  feast  of  carne  con  cuero,  or  meat 
roasted  in  the  hide,  juicy,  tender,  and  exquisitely  flavoured.  I  must 
tell  the  English  reader  who  is  accustomed  to  eat  meat  and  game 
which  has  been  kept  till  it  is  tender,  that  before  the  tender  stage 
is  reached  it  has  been  permitted  to  get  tough.  Meat,  game  included, 
is  never  so  tender  or  deliciously  flavoured  as  when  cooked  and 
eaten  immediately  after  it  is  killed.  Compared  with  meat  at  any 
subsequent  stage,  it  is  like  a  new-laid  egg  or  a  salmon  with  the 
cream  on,  compared  with  an  egg  or  a  salmon  after  a  week's  keeping. 

We  enjoyed  the  repast  immensely,  though  Captain  Cloud  bit- 
terly lamented  that  we  had  neither  rum  nor  tea  to  wash  it  down. 
When  we  had  thanked  our  entertainer  and  were  about  to  turn  our 
horses'  heads  homewards,  the  polite  capatas  once  more  stepped  out 
and  addressed  us. 

"Gentlemen,"  he  said,  "whenever  you  feel  disposed  to  hunt, 
come  to  me  and  we  will  lasso  and  roast  a  heifer  in  the  hide.  It  is 
the  best  dish  the  republic  has  to  offer  the  stranger,  and  it  will 
give  me  great  pleasure  to  entertain  you;  but  I  beg  you  will  hunt  no 
more  foxes  over  the  ground  belonging  to  this  cstancia,  for  you  have 
caused  so  great  a  commotion  amongst  the  cattle  I  am  placed  here 
in  charge  of,  that  it  will  take  my  men  two  or  three  days  to  find 
them  all  and  bring  them  back  again." 

We  gave  the  desired  promise,  plainly  perceiving  that  fox-hunting 

42 


Cfte  purple  JLanD 

in  the  English  fashion  is  not  a  sport  adapted  to  the  Oriental  country. 
Then  we  rode  back,  and  spent  the  remaining  hours  at  the  house  of 
Mr.  Girling,  of  the  Glorious  Four,  drinking  rum  and  tea,  smoking 
unlimited  pipes  of  cavendish,  and  talking  over  our  hunting  expe- 
rience. 


43 


Cfte  purple  ILanD 


&^0r*^r*^0f*^0r*s0rx^rxJ0rxJ0r*<0V^i,^^ 


CHAPTER  VI 

I  SPENT  several  days  at  the  colony;  and  I  suppose  the  life  I 
led  there  had  a  demoralising  effect  on  me,  for,  unpleasant  as 
it  was,  every  day  I  felt  less  inclined  to  break  loose  from  it,  and 
sometimes  I  even  thought  seriously  of  settling  down  there  myself. 
This  crazy  idea,  however,  would  usually  come  to  me  late  in  the 
day,  after  a  great  deal  of  indulgence  in  rum  and  tea,  a  mixture 
that  would  very  soon  drive  any  man  mad. 

One  afternoon,  at  one  of  our  convivial  meetings,  it  was  resolved 
to  pay  a  visit  to  the  little  town  of  Tolosa,  about  eighteen  miles  to 
the  east  of  the  colony.  Next  day  we  set  out,  every  man  wearing 
a  revolver  slung  at  his  waist,  and  provided  with  a  heavy  poncho 
for  covering;  for  it  was  the  custom  of  the  colonists  to  spend  the 
night  at  Tolosa  when  they  visited  it.  We  put  up  at  a  large  public- 
house  in  the  centre  of  the  miserable  little  town,  where  there  was 
accommodation  for  man  and  beast,  the  last  always  faring  rather 
better  than  the  first.  I  very  soon  discovered  that  the  chief  object 
of  our  visit  was  to  vary  the  entertainment  of  drinking  rum  and 
smoking  at  the  "Colony,"  by  drinking  rum  and  smoking  at  Tolosa. 
The  bibulous  battle  raged  till  bedtime,  when  the  only  sober  mem- 
ber of  our  party  was  myself;  for  I  had  spent  the  greater  part  of  the 
afternoon  walking  about  talking  to  the  townspeople,  in  the  hope 
of  picking  up  some  information  useful  to  me  in  my  search  for 
occupation.  But  the  women  and  old  men  I  met  gave  me  little  en- 
couragement. They  seemed  to  be  a  rather  listless  set  in  Tolosa,  and 
when  I  asked  them  what  they  were  doing  to  make  a  livelihood,  they 
said  they  were  waiting.  My  fellow-countrymen  and  their  visit  to 
the  town  was  the  principal  topic  of  conversation.  They  regarded 
their  English  neighbours  as  strange  and  dangerous  creatures,  who 
took  no  solid  food,  but  subsisted  on  a  mixture  of  rum  and  gun- 

44 


Cjje  Purple  LanD 

powder  (which  was  the  truth),  and  who  were  armed  with  deadly 
engines  called  revolvers,  invented  specially  for  them  by  their  father 
the  devil.  The  day's  experience  convinced  me  that  the  English 
colony  had  some  excuse  for  its  existence,  since  its  periodical  visits 
gave  the  good  people  of  Tolosa  a  little  wholesome  excitement  dur- 
ing the  stagnant  intervals  between  the  revolutions. 

At  night  we  all  turned  into  a  large  room  with  a  clay  floor,  in 
which  there  was  not  a  single  article  of  furniture.  Our  saddles,  rugs, 
and  ponchos  had  all  been  thrown  together  in  a  corner,  and  anyone 
wishing  to  sleep  had  to  make  himself  a  bed  with  his  own  horse- 
gear  and  toggery  as  best  he  could.  The  experience  was  nothing  new 
to  me,  so  I  soon  made  myself  a  comfortable  nest  on  the  floor,  and, 
pulling  off  my  boots,  coiled  myself  up  like  an  opossum  that  knows 
nothing  better  and  is  friendly  with  fleas.  My  friends,  however,  were 
evidently  bent  on  making  a  night  of  it,  and  had  taken  care  to 
provide  themselves  with  three  or  four  bottles  of  rum.  After  con- 
versation, with  an  occasional  song,  had  been  going  on  for  some 
time,  one  of  them — a  Mr.  Chillingworth — rose  to  his  feet  and  de- 
manded silence. 

"Gentlemen,"  he  said,  advancing  into  the  middle  of  the  room, 
where,  by  occasionally  throwing  out  his  arms  to  balance  himself, 
he  managed  to  maintain  a  tolerably  erect  position,  "I  am  going  to 
make  a  what-d'ye-call-it." 

Furious  cheers  greeted  this  announcement,  while  one  of  the 
hearers,  carried  away  with  enthusiasm  at  the  prospect  of  listening 
to  his  friend's  eloquence,  discharged  his  revolver  at  the  roof,  scat- 
tering confusion  amongst  a  legion  of  long-legged  spiders  that  oc- 
cupied the  dusty  cobwebs  above  our  heads. 

I  was  afraid  the  whole  town  would  be  up  in  arms  at  our  carry- 
ings on,  but  they  assured  me  that  they  all  fired  off  their  revolvers 
in  that  room  and  that  nobody  came  near  them,  as  they  were  so 
well  known  in  the  town. 

"Gentlemen,"  continued  Mr.  Chillingworth,  when  order  had 
been  at  length  restored,  "I've  been  thinking,  that's  what  I've  been 
doing.  Now  let's  review  the  situation.  Here  we  stand,  a  colony  of 
English  gentlemen:  here  we  are,  don't  you  know,  far  from  our 

45 


Cfte  Purple  LanD 

homes  and  country  and  all  that  sort  of  thing.  What  says  the  poet? 
I  daresay  some  of  you  fellows  remember  the  passage.  But  what  for, 
I  ask!  What,  gentlemen,  is  the  object  of  our  being  here?  That's 
just  what  I'm  going  to  tell  you,  don't  you  know.  We  are  here, 
gentlemen,  to  infuse  a  little  of  our  Anglo-Saxon  energy,  and  all 
that  sort  of  thing,  into  this  dilapidated  old  tin-pot  of  a  nation." 

Here  the  orator  was  encouraged  by  a  burst  of  applause. 

"Now,  gentlemen,"  he  continued,  "isn't  it  hard — devilish  hard, 
don't  you  know,  that  so  little  is  made  of  us?  I  feel  it — I  feel  it, 
gentlemen ;  our  lives  are  being  frittered  away.  I  don't  know  whether 
you  fellows  feel  it.  You  see,  we  ain't  a  melancholy  lot.  We're  a 
glorious  combination  against  the  blue  devils,  that's  what  we  are. 
Only  sometimes  I  feel,  don't  you  know,  that  all  the  rum  in  the 
place  can't  quite  kill  them.  I  can't  help  thinking  of  jolly  days  on 
the  other  side  of  the  water.  Now,  don't  you  fellows  look  at  me  as 
if  you  thought  I  was  going  to  blubber.  I'm  not  going  to  make  such 
a  confounded  ass  of  myself,  don't  you  know.  But  what  I  want  you 
fellows  to  tell  me  is  this :  Are  we  to  go  on  all  our  lives  making  beasts 
of  ourselves,  guzzling  rum — I — I  beg  your  pardon,  gentlemen.  I 
didn't  mean  to  say  that,  really.  Rum  is  about  the  only  decent  thing 
in  this  place.  Rum  keeps  us  alive.  If  any  man  says  a  word  against 
rum,  I'll  call  him  an  infernal  ass.  I  meant  to  say  the  country,  gen- 
tlemen— this  rotten  old  country,  don't  you  know.  No  cricket,  no 
society,  no  Bass,  no  anything.  Supposing  we  had  gone  to  Canada 
with  our — our  capital  and  energies,  wouldn't  they  have  received  us 
with  open  arms?  And  what's  the  reception  we  get  here?  Now, 
gentlemen,  what  I  propose  is  this:  let's  protest.  Let's  get  up  a  what- 
d'you-call-it  to  the  thing  they  call  a  government.  We'll  state  our 
case  to  the  thing,  gentlemen;  and  we'll  insist  on  it  and  be  very  firm; 
that's  what  we'll  do,  don't  you  know.  Are  we  to  live  amongst  these 
miserable  monkeys  and  give  them  the  benefit  of  our — our — yes, 
gentlemen,  our  capital  and  energies,  and  get  nothing  in  return? 
No,  no;  we  must  let  them  know  that  we  are  not  satisfied,  that  we 
will  be  very  angry  with  them.  That's  about  all  I  have  to  say, 
gentlemen." 

Loud  applause  followed,  during  which  the  orator  sat  down 


Cfte  purple  LanD 

rather  suddenly  on  the  floor.  Then  followed  "Rule  Britannia,"  every- 
one assisting  with  all  the  breath  in  his  lungs  to  make  night  hideous. 

When  the  song  was  finished  the  loud  snoring  of  Captain  Wrio- 
thesley  became  audible.  He  had  begun  to  spread  some  rugs  to  lie 
on,  but,  becoming  hopelessly  entangled  in  his  bridle-reins,  surcingle, 
and  stirrup-straps,  had  fallen  to  sleep  with  his  feet  on  his  saddle 
and  his  head  on  the  floor. 

"Hallo,  we  can't  have  this!"  shouted  one  of  the  fellows.  "Let's 
wake  old  Cloud  by  firing  at  the  wall  over  him  and  knocking  some 
plaster  on  to  his  head.  It'll  be  awful  fun,  you  know." 

Everybody  was  delighted  with  the  proposal,  except  poor  Chil- 
lingworth,  who,  after  delivering  his  speech,  had  crept  away  on  all 
fours  into  a  corner,  where  he  was  sitting  alone  and  looking  very 
pale  and  miserable. 

The  firing  now  began,  most  of  the  bullets  hitting  the  wall  only 
a  few  inches  above  the  recumbent  Captain's  head,  scattering  dust 
and  bits  of  plaster  over  his  purple  face.  I  jumped  up  in  alarm  and 
rushed  amongst  them,  telling  them  in  my  haste  that  they  were  too 
drunk  to  hold  their  revolvers  properly,  and  would  kill  their  friend. 

My  interference  raised  a  loud,  angry  remonstrance,  in  the  midst 
of  which  the  Captain,  who  was  lying  in  a  most  uncomfortable 
position,  woke,  and,  struggling  into  a  sitting  posture,  stared  vacantly 
at  us,  his  reins  and  straps  wound  like  serpents  about  his  neck  and 
arms. 

"What's  all  the  row  'bout?"  he  demanded  huskily.  "Getting  up 
rev'lution,  I  s'pose.  A'right;  only  thing  to  do  in  this  country.  Only 
don't  ask  me  to  be  pres'dent.  Nor  good  enough.  Goo'  night,  boys; 
don't  cut  my  throat  by  mistake.  Gor  bless  you  all." 

"No,  no,  don't  go  to  sleep,  Cloud,"  they  shouted.  "Lamb's  the 
cause  of  all  this.  He  says  we're  drunk — that's  the  way  Lamb  repays 
our  hospitality.  We  were  firing  to  wake  you  up,  old  Cap,  to  have 
a  drink " 

"A  drink — yes,"  assented  the  Captain  hoarsely. 

"And  Lamb  was  afraid  we  would  injure  you.  Tell  him,  old 
Cloud,  whether  you're  afraid  of  your  friends.  Tell  Lamb  what  you 
think  of  his  conduct." 

47 


Cfte  purple  LanO 

"Yes,  I'll  tell  him,"  returned  the  Captain  in  his  thick  tones. 
"Lamb  shan't  interfere,  gentlemen.  But  you  know  you  took  him  in, 
didn't  you,  now?  And  what  was  my  opinion  of  him?  It  wasn't 
right  of  you  fellows,  was  it,  now?  He  couldn't  be  one  of  us,  you 
know,  could  he  now?  I'll  leave  it  to  you,  gentlemen;  didn't  I  say 
the  fellow  was  a  cad?  Why  the  devil  doesn't  he  leave  me  alone 
then?  I'll  tell  you  what  I'll  do  with  Lamb,  I'll  punch  his  damned 
nose,  don't  you  know." 

And  here  the  gallant  gentleman  attempted  to  rise,  but  his  legs 
refused  to  assist  him,  and,  tumbling  back  against  the  wall,  he  was 
only  able  to  glare  at  me  out  of  his  watery  eyes. 

I  went  up  to  him,  intending,  I  suppose,  to  punch  his  nose,  but, 
suddenly  changing  my  mind,  I  merely  picked  up  my  saddle  and 
things,  then  left  the  room  with  a  hearty  curse  on  Captain  Cloudesley 
Wriothesley,  the  evil  genius,  drunk  or  sober,  of  the  colony  of 
English  gentlemen.  I  was  no  sooner  outside  the  door  than  the  joy 
they  felt  at  being  rid  of  me  was  expressed  in  loud  shouts,  clapping 
of  hands,  and  a  general  discharge  of  firearms  into  the  roof. 

I  spread  my  rugs  out  of  doors  and  soliloquised  myself  to  sleep. 
"And  so  ends,"  said  I,  fixing  my  somewhat  drowsy  eyes  on  the  con- 
stellation of  Orion,  "adventure  the  second,  or  twenty-second — little 
does  it  matter  about  the  exact  number  of  them,  since  they  all  alike 
end  in  smoke — revolver  smoke — or  a  flourish  of  knives  and  the  shak- 
ing of  dust  from  off  my  feet.  And,  perhaps,  at  this  very  moment 
Paquita,  roused  from  light  slumbers  by  the  droning  cry  of  the 
night-watchman  under  her  window,  puts  out  her  arms  to  feel  me, 
and  sighs  to  find  my  place  still  vacant.  What  must  I  say  to  her? 
That  I  must  change  my  name  to  Ernandes  or  Fernandes,  or  Bias 
or  Chas,  or  Sandariaga,  Gorostiaga,  Madariaga,  or  any  other  'aga,' 
and  conspire  to  overthrow  the  existing  order  of  things.  There  is 
nothing  else  for  me  to  do,  since  this  Oriental  world  is  indeed  an 
oyster  only  a  sharp  sword  will  serve  to  open.  As  for  arms  and 
armies  and  military  training,  all  that  is  quite  unnecessary.  One  has 
only  got  to  bring  together  a  few  ragged,  dissatisfied  men,  and, 
taking  horse,  charge  pell-mell  into  poor  Mr.  Chillingworth's  dilapi- 
dated old  tin-pot.  I  almost  feel  like  that  unhappy  gentleman  to- 

48 


Cfte  purple  JLanD 

night,  ready  to  blubber.  But,  after  all,  my  position  is  not  quite  so 
hopeless  as  his;  I  have  no  brutalised,  purple-nosed  Briton  sitting 
like  a  nightmare  on  my  chest,  pressing  the  life  out  of  me." 

The  shouts  and  choruses  of  the  revellers  grew  fainter  and  fewer, 
and  had  almost  ceased  when  I  sank  to  sleep,  lulled  by  a  solitary 
tipsy  voice  droning  out  in  a  lugubrious  key: 

We  won't  go — gome  till  morring. 


49 


Cfte  purple  JLanU 


CHAPTER  VII 

ARLY  next  morning  I  left  Tolosa  and  travelled  the  whole 
day  in  a  south-westerly  direction.  I  did  not  hurry,  but  fre- 
quently dismounted  to  give  my  horse  a  sip  of  clear  water 
and  a  taste  of  green  herbage.  I  also  called  during  the  day  at  three 
or  four  cstancia  houses,  but  failed  to  hear  anything  that  could  be 
advantageous  to  me.  In  this  way  I  covered  about  thirty-five  miles 
of  road,  going  always  towards  the  eastern  part  of  the  Florida  dis- 
trict in  the  heart  of  the  country.  About  an  hour  before  sunset  I 
resolved  to  go  no  farther  that  day;  and  I  could  not  have  hoped  to 
find  a  nicer  resting-place  than  the  one  now  before  me — a  neat 
rancho  with  a  wide  corridor  supported  by  wooden  pillars,  stand- 
ing amidst  a  bower  of  fine  old  weeping-willows.  It  was  a  calm, 
sunshiny  afternoon,  peace  and  quiet  resting  on  everything,  even 
bird  and  insect,  for  they  were  silent,  or  uttered  only  soft,  subdued 
notes;  and  that  modest  lodge,  with  its  rough  stone  walls  and 
thatched  roof,  seemed  to  be  in  harmony  with  it  all.  It  looked  like 
the  home  of  simple-minded,  pastoral  people  that  had  for  their 
only  world  the  grassy  wilderness,  watered  by  many  clear  streams, 
bounded  ever  by  that  far-off,  unbroken  ring  of  the  horizon,  and 
arched  over  with  blue  heaven,  starry  by  night  and  filled  by  day 
with  sweet  sunshine. 

On  approaching  the  house  I  was  agreeably  disappointed  at  hav- 
ing no  pack  of  loud-mouthed,  ferocious  dogs  rushing  forth  to  rend 
the  presumptuous  stranger  to  pieces,  a  thing  one  always  expects. 
The  only  signs  of  life  visible  were  a  white-haired  old  man  seated 
within  the  corridor  smoking,  and  a  few  yards  from  it  a  young  girl 
standing  under  a  willow-tree.  But  that  girl  was  a  picture  for  one 
to  gaze  long  upon  and  carry  about  in  his  memory  for  a  lifetime. 
Never  had  I  beheld  anything  so  exquisitely  beautiful.  It  was  not 

50 


Cfte  Purple  £anD 

that  kind  of  beauty  so  common  in  these  countries,  which  bursts 
upon  you  like  the  sudden  south-west  wind  called  pampero,  almost 
knocking  the  breath  out  of  your  body,  then  passing  as  suddenly 
away,  leaving  you  with  hair  ruffled  up  and  mouth  full  of  dust.  Its 
influence  was  more  like  that  of  the  spring  wind,  which  blows  softly, 
scarcely  fanning  your  cheek,  yet  infusing  through  all  your  system 
a  delicious,  magical  sensation  like — like  nothing  else  in  earth  or 
heaven.  She  was,  I  fancy,  about  fourteen  years  old,  slender  and 
graceful  in  figure,  and  with  a  marvellously  clear  white  skin,  on 
which  this  bright  Oriental  sun  had  not  painted  one  freckle.  Her 
features  were,  I  think,  the  most  perfect  I  have  ever  seen  in  any 
human  being,  and  her  golden  brown  hair  hung  in  two  heavy  braids 
behind,  almost  to  her  knees.  As  I  approached,  she  looked  up  to  me 
out  of  sweet,  grey-blue  eyes ;  there  was  a  bashful  smile  on  her  lips, 
but  she  did  not  move  or  speak.  On  the  willow-branch  over  her  head 
were  two  young  doves;  they  were,  it  appeared,  her  pets,  unable 
yet  to  fly,  and  she  had  placed  them  there.  The  little  things  had 
crept  up  just  beyond  her  reach,  and  she  was  trying  to  get  them  by 
pulling  the  branch  down  towards  her. 

Leaving  my  horse,  I  came  to  her  side. 

"I  am  tall,  senorita,"  I  said,  "and  can  perhaps  reach  them." 

She  watched  me  with  anxious  interest  while  I  gently  pulled  her 
birds  from  their  perch  and  transferred  them  to  her  hands.  Then 
she  kissed  them,  well-pleased,  and  with  a  gentle  hesitation  in  her 
manner  asked  me  in. 

Under  the  corridor  I  made  the  acquaintance  of  her  grandfather, 
the  white-haired  old  man,  and  found  him  a  person  it  was  very  easy 
to  get  on  with,  for  he  agreed  readily  with  everything  I  said.  Indeed, 
even  before  I  could  get  a  remark  out  he  began  eagerly  assenting 
to  it.  There,  too,  I  met  the  girl's  mother,  who  was  not  at  all  like 
her  beautiful  daughter,  but  had  black  hair  and  eyes,  and  a  brown 
skin,  as  most  Spanish-American  women  have.  Evidently  the  father 
is  the  white-skinned,  golden-haired  one,  I  thought.  When  the  girl's 
brother  came  in,  by  and  by,  he  unsaddled  my  horse  and  led  him 
away  to  pasture;  this  boy  was  also  dark,  darker  even  than  his 
mother. 


Cfte  purple  JLanD 

The  simple  spontaneous  kindness  with  which  these  people 
treated  me  had  a  flavour  about  it  the  like  of  which  I  have  seldom 
experienced  elsewhere.  It  was  not  the  common  hospitality  usually 
shown  to  a  stranger,  but  a  natural,  unstrained  kindness,  such  as 
they  might  be  expected  to  show  to  a  beloved  brother  or  son  who 
had  gone  out  from  them  in  the  morning  and  was  now  returned. 

By  and  by  the  girl's  father  came  in,  and  I  was  extremely  sur- 
prised to  find  him  a  small,  wrinkled,  dark  specimen,  with  jet-black, 
bead-like  eyes  and  podgy  nose,  showing  plainly  enough  that  he 
had  more  than  a  dash  of  aboriginal  Charrua  blood  in  his  veins. 
This  upset  my  theory  about  the  girl's  fair  skin  and  blue  eyes;  the 
little  dark  man  was,  however,  quite  as  sweet-tempered  as  the  others, 
for  he  came  in,  sat  down,  and  joined  in  the  conversation,  just  as 
if  I  had  been  one  of  the  family  whom  he  had  expected  to  find  there. 
While  I  talked  to  these  good  people  on  simple  pastoral  matters, 
all  the  wickedness  of  Orientals — the  throat-cutting  war  of  Whites 
and  Reds,  and  the  unspeakable  cruelties  of  the  ten  years'  siege — 
were  quite  forgotten.  I  wished  that  I  had  been  born  amongst  them 
and  was  one  of  them,  not  a  weary,  wandering  Englishman,  over- 
burdened with  the  arms  and  armour  of  civilisation,  and  staggering 
along,  like  Atlas,  with  the  weight  of  a  kingdom  on  which  the  sun 
never  sets  on  his  shoulders. 

By  and  by  this  good  man,  whose  real  name  I  never  discovered, 
for  his  wife  simply  called  him  Batata  (sweet  potato),  looking  criti- 
cally at  his  pretty  girl,  remarked:  "Why  have  you  decked  yourself 
out  like  this,  my  daughter — it  is  not  a  Saint's  day?" 

His  daughter  indeed!  I  mentally  ejaculated;  she  is  more  like 
the  daughter  of  the  evening  star  than  of  such  a  man.  But  his  words 
were  unreasonable,  to  say  the  least  of  it;  for  the  sweet  child,  whose 
name  was  Margarita,  though  wearing  shoes,  had  no  stockings  on, 
while  her  dress — very  clean,  certainly — was  a  cotton  print  so  faded 
that  the  pattern  was  quite  undistinguishable.  The  only  pretence  of 
finery  of  any  description  was  a  narrow  bit  of  blue  ribbon  tied  about 
her  lily-white  neck.  And  yet,  had  she  been  wearing  richest  silks 
and  costliest  gems,  she  could  not  have  blushed  and  smiled  with  a 
prettier  confusion. 

52 


Cfte  purple  Land 

"We  are  expecting  Uncle  Anselmo  this  evening,  papita,"  she 
replied. 

"Leave  the  child,  Batata,"  said  the  mother.  "You  know  what  a 
craze  she  has  for  Anselmo:  when  he  comes  she  is  always  prepared 
to  receive  him  like  a  queen." 

This  was  really  almost  too  much  for  me,  and  I  was  powerfully 
tempted  to  jump  up  and  embrace  the  whole  family  on  the  spot. 
How  sweet  was  this  primitive  simplicity  of  mind!  Here,  doubtless, 
was  the  one  spot  on  the  wide  earth  where  the  golden  age  still 
lingered,  appearing  like  the  last  beams  of  the  setting  sun  touching 
some  prominent  spot,  when  elsewhere  all  things  are  in  shadow. 
Ah,  why  had  fate  led  me  into  this  sweet  Arcadia,  since  I  must 
presently  leave  it  to  go  back  to  the  dull  world  of  toil  and  strife. 

That  vain  low  strife 

Which  makes  men  mad,  the  tug  for  wealth  and  power, 
The  passions  and  the  cares  that  wither  life 
And  waste  its  little  hour? 

Had  it  not  been  for  the  thought  of  Paquita  waiting  for  me  over 
there  in  Montevideo,  I  could  have  said,  "O  good  friend  Sweet 
Potato,  and  good  friends  all,  let  me  remain  for  ever  with  you  under 
this  roof,  sharing  your  simple  pleasures,  and,  wishing  for  nothing 
better,  forget  that  great  crowded  world  where  all  men  are  striving 
to  conquer  Nature  and  death  and  to  win  fortune;  until,  having 
wasted  their  miserable  lives  in  their  vain  endeavours,  they  drop 
down  and  the  earth  is  shovelled  over  them!" 

Shortly  after  sunset  the  expected  Anselmo  arrived  to  spend  the 
night  with  his  relations,  and  scarcely  had  he  got  down  from  his 
horse  before  Margarita  was  at  his  side  to  ask  the  avuncular  bless- 
ing, at  the  same  time  raising  his  hand  to  her  delicate  lips.  He  gave 
his  blessing,  touching  her  golden  hair;  then  she  lifted  her  face 
bright  with  new  happiness. 

Anselmo  was  a  fine  specimen  of  the  Oriental  gaucho,  dark  and 
with  good  features,  his  hair  and  moustache  intensely  black.  He 
wore  costly  clothes,  while  his  whip-handle,  the  sheath  of  his  long 
knife,  and  other  things  about  him  were  of  massive  silver.  Of  silver 

53 


Cfte  purple  JLanD 

also  were  his  heavy  spurs,  the  pommel  of  his  saddle,  his  stirrups, 
and  the  headstall  of  his  bridle.  He  was  a  great  talker;  never,  in 
fact,  in  the  whole  course  of  my  varied  experience  have  I  encountered 
anyone  who  could  pour  out  such  an  incessant  stream  of  talk  about 
small  matters  as  this  man.  We  all  sat  together  in  the  social  kitchen, 
sipping  mate;  I  taking  little  part  in  the  conversation,  which  was 
all  about  horses,  scarcely  even  listening  to  what  the  others  were 
saying.  Reclining  against  the  wall,  I  occupied  myself  agreeably 
watching  the  sweet  face  of  Margarita,  which  in  her  happy  excite- 
ment had  become  suffused  with  a  delicate  rosy  colour.  I  have  al- 
ways had  a  great  love  for  the  beautiful:  sunsets,  wild  flowers,  espe- 
cially verbenas,  so  prettily  called  margaritas  in  this  country;  and 
beyond  everything  the  rainbow  spanning  the  vast  gloomy  heavens, 
with  its  green  and  violet  arch,  when  the  storm-cloud  passes  east- 
ward over  the  wet  sun-flushed  earth.  All  these  things  have  a  singu- 
lar fascination  for  my  soul.  But  beauty  when  it  presents  itself  in 
the  human  form  is  even  more  than  these  things.  There  is  in  it  a 
magnetic  power  drawing  my  heart;  a  something  that  is  not  love, 
for  how  can  a  married  man  have  a  feeling  like  that  towards  any- 
one except  his  wife  ?  No,  it  is  not  love,  but  a  sacred  ethereal  kind  of 
affection,  resembling  love  only  as  the  fragrance  of  violets  resembles 
the  taste  of  honey  and  the  honey-comb. 

At  length,  some  time  after  supper,  Margarita,  to  my  sorrow,  rose 
to  retire,  though  not  without  first  once  more  asking  her  uncle's 
blessing.  After  her  departure  from  the  kitchen,  finding  that  the 
inexhaustible  talking-machine  Anselmo  was  still  holding  forth  fresh 
as  ever,  I  lit  a  cigar  and  prepared  to  listen. 


54 


Cfte  purple  LanD 


CHAPTER  VIII 

"HEN  I  began  to  listen,  it  was  a  surprise  to  find  that  the 
subject  of  conversation  was  no  longer  the  favourite  one 
of  horse-flesh,  which  had  held  undisputed  sway  the 
whole  evening.  Uncle  Anselmo  was  just  now  expatiating  on  the 
merits  of  gin,  a  beverage  for  which  he  confessed  to  a  special  liking. 

"Gin  is,  without  doubt,"  said  he,  "the  flower  of  all  strong  drinks. 
I  have  always  maintained  that  it  is  incomparable.  And  for  this 
reason  I  always  keep  a  little  of  it  in  the  house  in  a  stone  bottle ;  for, 
when  I  have  taken  my  mate  in  the  morning,  and,  after  it,  one  or 
two  or  three  or  four  sips  of  gin,  I  saddle  my  horse  and  go  out  with 
a  tranquil  stomach,  feeling  at  peace  with  the  whole  world. 

"Well,  sirs,  it  happened  that  on  the  morning  in  question,  I 
noticed  that  there  was  very  little  gin  left  in  the  bottle;  for, .though 
I  could  not  see  how  much  it  contained,  owing  to  its  being  of  stone 
and  not  of  glass,  I  judged  from  the  manner  in  which  I  -had  to  tip 
it  upwards  when  pouring  it  out.  In  order  to  remember  that  I  had 
to  bring  home  some  with  me  that  day  I  tied  a  knot  in  my  handker- 
chief; then,  mounting  my  horse,  I  rode  out  towards  the  side  on 
which  the  sun  sets,  little  expecting  that  anything  unusual  was  going 
to  happen  to  me  that  day.  But  thus  it  often  is;  for  no  man,  how- 
ever learned  he  may  be  and  able  to  read  the  almanac,  can  tell  what 
a  day  will  bring  forth." 

Anselmo  was  so  outrageously  prosy,  I  felt  strongly  inclined 
to  go  to  bed  to  dream  of  beautiful  Margarita;  but  politeness  for- 
bade, and  I  was  also  somewhat  curious  to  hear  what  extraordinary 
thing  had  happened  to  him  on  that  very  eventful  day. 

"It  fortunately  happened,"  continued  Anselmo,  "that  I  had  that 
morning  saddled  the  best  of  my  cream-noses;  for  on  that  horse  I 
could  say  without  fear  of  contradiction,  I  am  on  horseback  and  not 

55 


Cfte  Purple  JUtnD 

on  foot.  I  called  him  Chingolo,  a  name  which  Manuel,  also  called 
the  Fox,  gave  him,  because  he  was  a  young  horse  of  promise,  able 
to  fly  with  his  rider.  Manuel  had  nine  horses — cream-noses  every 
one — and  how  from  being  Manuel's  they  came  to  be  mine  I  will 
tell  you.  He,  poor  man,  had  just  lost  all  his  money  at  cards — per- 
haps the  money  he  lost  was  not  much,  but  how  he  came  to  have  any 
was  a  mystery  to  many.  To  me,  however,  it  was  no  mystery,  and 
when  my  cattle  were  slaughtered  and  had  their  hides  stripped  off 
by  night,  perhaps  I  could  have  gone  to  Justice — feeling  like  a  blind 
man  for  something  in  the  wrong  place — and  led  her  in  the  direction 
of  the  offender's  house;  but  when  one  has  it  in  his  power  to  speak, 
knowing  at  the  same  time  that  his  words  will  fall  like  a  thunder- 
bolt out  of  a  blue  sky  upon  a  neighbour's  dwelling,  consuming  it 
to  ashes  and  killing  all  within  it,  why,  sirs,  in  such  a  case  the  good 
Christian  prefers  to  hold  his  peace.  For  what  has  one  man  more 
than  another  that  he  should  put  himself  in  the  place  of  Providence  ? 
We  are  all  of  flesh.  True,  some  of  us  are  only  dog's  flesh,  fit  for  noth- 
ing; but  to  all  of  us  the  lash  is  painful,  and  where  it  rains  blood 
will  sprout.  This,  I  say;  but,  remember,  I  say  not  that  Manuel  the 
Fox  robbed  me — for  I  would  sully  no  man's  reputation,  even  a 
robber's,  or  have  anyone  suffer  on  my  account. 

"Well,  sirs,  to  go  back  to  what  I  was  saying,  Manuel  lost  every- 
thing; then  his  wife  fell  ill  with  fever;  and  what  was  there  left  for 
him  but  to  turn  his  horses  into  money?  In  this  way  it  came  about 
that  I  bought  the  cream-noses  and  paid  him  fifty  dollars  for  them. 
True,  the  horses  were  young  and  sound;  nevertheless,  it  was  a 
great  price,  and  I  paid  it  not  without  first  weighing  the  matter 
well  in  my  own  mind.  For  in  things  of  this  nature  if  a  person 
makes  not  his  reckoning  beforehand,  where,  let  me  ask,  sirs,  will 
he  find  himself  at  the  year's  end  ?  The  devil  will  take  him  with  all 
the  cattle  he  inherited  from  his  fathers,  or  got  together  by  his  own 
proper  abilities  and  industry. 

"For  you  see  the  thing  is  this.  I  have  a  poor  head  for  figures; 
all  other  kinds  of  knowledge  come  easy  to  me,  but  how  to  calcu- 
late readily  has  never  yet  found  an  entrance  into  my  head.  At  the 
same  time,  whenever  I  find  it  impossible  to  make  out  my  accounts, 

56 


Or  Purple  LanD 

or  settle  what  to  do,  I  have  only  to  take  the  matter  to  bed  with  me 
and  lie  awake  thinking  it  over.  For  when  I  do  that,  I  rise  next 
morning  feeling  free  and  refreshed,  like  a  man  that  has  just  eaten 
a  water-melon;  for  what  I  have  to  do  and  how  it  is  to  be  done  is 
all  as  plain  to  my  sight  as  this  mate-cup  I  hold  in  my  hand. 

"In  this  difficulty  I  therefore  resolved  to  take  the  subject  of  the 
horses  to  bed  with  me,  and  to  say,  'Here  I  have  you  and  you  shall 
not  escape  from  me.'  But  about  supper-time  Manuel  came  in  to 
molest  me,  and  sat  in  the  kitchen  with  a  sad  face,  like  a  prisoner 
under  sentence  of  death. 

'  'If  Providence  is  angry  against  the  entire  human  race,'  said 
he,  'and  is  anxious  to  make  an  example,  I  know  not  for  what  reason 
so  harmless  and  obscure  a  person  as  I  am  should  have  been  se- 
lected/ 

'  'What  would  you  have,  Manuel?'  I  replied.  'Wise  men  tell  us 
that  Providence  sends  us  misfortunes  for  our  good.' 

'True,  I  agree  with  you,'  he  said.  'It  is  not  for  me  to  doubt 
it,  for  what  can  be  said  of  that  soldier  who  finds  fault  with  the 
measures  of  his  commander  ?  But  you  know,  Anselmo,  the  man  I 
am,  and  it  is  bitter  that  these  troubles  should  fall  on  one  who  has 
never  offended  except  in  being  always  poor.' 

'  The  vulture,'  said  I,  'ever  preys  on  the  weak  and  ailing.' 

"  'First  I  lose  everything,'  he  continued,  'then  this  woman  must 
fall  ill  of  a  calenture;  and  now  I  am  forced  to  believe  that  even  my 
credit  is  gone,  since  I  cannot  borrow  the  money  I  require.  Those 
who  knew  me  best  have  suddenly  become  strangers.' 

'  'When  a  man  is  down,'  said  I,  'the  very  dogs  will  scratch  up 
the  dust  against  him.' 

"True,'  said  Manuel;  'and  since  these  calamities  fell  on  me, 
what  has  become  of  the  friendships  that  were  so  many  ?  For  noth- 
ing has  a  worse  smell,  or  stinks  more,  than  poverty,  so  that  all  men 
when  they  behold  it  cover  up  their  faces  or  fly  from  such  a  pesti- 
lence.' 

;  'You  speak  the  truth,  Manuel,'  I  returned ;  'but  say  not  all  men, 
for  who  knows — there  being  so  many  souls  in  the  world — whether 
you  may  not  be  doing  injustice  to  someone.' 

57 


Cfte  purple  HanD 

"  'I  say  it  not  of  you,'  he  replied.  'On  the  contrary,  if  any  person 
has  had  compassion  on  me  it  is  you;  and  this  I  say,  not  in  your 
presence  only,  but  publicly  proclaim  it  to  all  men.' 

"Words  only  were  these.  'And  now,'  he  continued  'my  cards 
oblige  me  to  part  with  my  horses  for  money;  therefore  I  come  this 
evening  to  learn  your  decision.' 

"  'Manuel,'  said  I,  'I  am  a  man  of  few  words,  as  you  know,  and 
straightforward,  therefore  you  need  not  have  used  compliments, 
and  before  saying  this  to  have  said  so  many  things;  for  in  this  you 
do  not  treat  me  as  a  friend.' 

"  'You  say  well,'  he  replied ;  'but  I  love  not  to  dismount  before 
checking  my  horse  and  taking  my  toes  from  the  stirrups.' 

"  'That  is  only  as  it  should  be,'  said  I ;  'nevertheless,  when  you 
come  to  a  friend's  house,  you  need  not  alight  at  such  a  distance 
from  the  gate.' 

"  'For  what  you  say,  I  thank  you,'  he  answered.  'My  faults  are 
more  numerous  than  the  spots  on  the  wild  cat,  but  not  amongst 
them  is  precipitancy.' 

"  That  is  what  I  like,'  said  I ;  'for  I  do  not  love  to  go  about  like 
a  drunk  man  embracing  strangers.  But  our  acquaintance  is  not 
of  yesterday,  for  we  have  looked  into  and  know  each  other,  even  to 
the  bowels  and  to  the  marrow  in  the  bones.  Why,  then,  should  we 
meet  as  strangers,  since  we  have  never  had  a  difference,  or  any 
occasion  to  speak  ill  of  each  other?' 

"  'And  how  should  we  speak  ill,'  replied  Manuel,  'since  it  has 
never  entered  into  either  of  us,  even  in  a  dream,  to  do  the  other 
an  injury?  Some  there  are,  who,  loving  me  badly,  would  blow  up 
your  head  like  a  bladder  with  lies  if  they  could,  laying  I  know  not 
what  things  to  my  charge,  when — heaven  knows — they  themselves 
are  perhaps  the  authors  of  all  they  so  readily  blame  me  for.' 

"  'If  you  speak,'  said  I,  'of  the  cattle  I  have  lost,  trouble  not 
yourself  about  such  trifles;  for  if  those  who  speak  evil  of  you,  only 
because  they  themselves  are  evil,  were  listening,  they  might  say, 
This  man  begins  to  defend  himself  when  no  one  has  so  much  as 
thought  of  drawing  against  him.' 

"  'True,  there  is  nothing  they  will  not  say  of  me,'  said  Manuel ; 

58 


Cfte  jputple  LanD 

'therefore  I  am  dumb,  for  nothing  is  to  be  gained  by  speaking.  They 
have  already  judged  me,  and  no  man  wishes  to  be  made  a  liar/ 

"  'As  for  me,'  I  said,  'I  never  doubted  you,  knowing  you  to  be  a 
man,  honest,  sober,  and  diligent.  If  in  anything  you  had  given 
offence  I  should  have  told  you  of  it,  so  great  is  my  frankness  towards 
all  men.' 

"  'All  that  you  tell  me  I  firmly  believe,'  said  he,  'for  I  know 
that  you  are  not  one  that  wears  a  mask  like  others.  Therefore, 
relying  on  your  great  openness  in  all  things,  I  come  to  you  about 
these  horses;  for  I  love  not  dealing  with  those  who  shake  you 
out  a  whole  bushel  of  chaff  for  every  grain  of  corn.' 

"  'But,  Manuel,'  said  I,  'you  know  that  I  am  not  made  of  gold, 
and  that  the  mines  of  Peru  were  not  left  to  me  for  an  inheritance. 
You  ask  a  high  price  for  your  horses.' 

"  'I  do  not  deny  it,'  he  replied.  'But  you  are  not  one  to  stop  your 
ears  against  reason  and  poverty  when  they  speak.  My  horses  are 
my  only  wealth  and  happiness,  and  I  have  no  glory  but  them.' 

"  'Frankly,  then,'  I  answered,  'to-morrow  I  will  tell  you  yes  or 
no.' 

"  'Let  it  be  as  you  say ;  but,  friend,  if  you  will  close  with  me  to- 
night I  will  abate  something  from  the  price.' 

"  'If  you  wish  to  abate  anything,'  said  I,  'let  it  be  to-morrow,  for 
I  have  accounts  to  make  up  to-night  and  a  thousand  things  to 
think  of.' 

"After  that  Manuel  got  on  to  his  horse  and  rode  away.  It  was 
black  and  rainy,  but  he  had  never  needed  moon  or  lantern  to  find 
what  he  sought  by  night,  whether  his  own  house,  or  a  fat  cow — 
also  his  own,  perhaps. 

"Then  I  went  to  bed.  The  first  question  I  asked  myself,  when 
I  had  blown  out  the  candle,  was,  Are  there  fat  wethers  enough  in 
my  flock  to  pay  for  the  cream-noses?  Then  I  asked,  How  many  fat 
wethers  will  it  take  at  the  price  Don  Sebastian — a  miserly  cheat  be 
it  said  in  passing — offers  me  a  head  for  them  to  make  up  the 
amount  I  require? 

"That  was  the  question ;  but,  you  see,  friends,  I  could  not  answer 
it.  At  length,  about  midnight,  I  resolved  to  light  the  candle  and 

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Cfte  Purple  JLanb 

get  an  ear  of  maize;  for  by  putting  the  grains  into  small  heaps, 
each  heap  the  price  of  a  wether,  then  counting  the  whole,  I  could 
get  to  know  what  I  wanted. 

"The  idea  was  good.  I  was  feeling  under  my  pillow  for  the 
matches  to  strike  a  light  when  I  suddenly  remembered  that  all  the 
grain  had  been  given  to  the  poultry.  No  matter,  said  I  to  myself, 
I  have  been  spared  the  trouble  of  getting  out  of  bed  for  nothing. 
Why,  it  was  only  yesterday,  said  I,  still  thinking  about  the  maize, 
that  Pascuala,  the  cook,  said  to  me  when  she  put  my  dinner  before 
me,  'Master,  when  are  you  going  to  buy  some  grain  for  the  fowls  ? 
How  can  you  expect  the  soup  to  be  good  when  there  is  not  even  an 
egg  to  put  in  it?  Then  there  is  the  black  cock  with  the  twisted 
toe — one  of  the  second  brood  the  spotted  hen  raised  last  summer, 
though  the  foxes  carried  off  no  less  than  three  hens  from  the  very 
bushes  where  she  was  sitting — he  has  been  going  round  with  droop- 
ing wings  all  day,  so  that  I  verily  believe  he  is  going  to  have  the 
pip.  And  if  any  epidemic  comes  amongst  the  fowls  as  there  was  in 
neighbour  Gumesinda's  the  year  before  last,  you  may  be  sure  it 
will  only  be  for  want  of  corn.  And  the  strangest  thing  is,  and  it  is 
quite  true,  though  you  may  doubt  it,  for  neighbour  Gumesinda 
told  me  only  yesterday  when  she  came  to  ask  me  for  some  parsley, 
because,  as  you  know  very  well,  her  own  was  all  rooted  up  when 
the  pigs  broke  into  her  garden  last  October;  well,  sir,  she  says  the 
epidemic  which  swept  off  twenty-seven  of  her  best  fowls  in  one 
week  began  by  a  black  cock  with  a  broken  toe,  just  like  ours, 
beginning  to  droop  its  wings  as  if  it  had  the  pip/ 

''  'May  all  the  demons  take  this  woman!'  I  cried,  throwing  down 
the  spoon  I  had  been  using,  'with  her  chatter  about  eggs  and  pip 
and  neighbour  Gumesinda,  and  I  know  not  what  besides!  Do  you 
think  I  have  nothing  to  do  but  to  gallop  about  the  country  looking 
for  maize,  when  it  is  not  to  be  had  for  its  weight  in  gold  at  this 
season,  and  all  because  a  sickly  spotted  hen  is  likely  to  have  the 

pip?' 

'  'I  have  said  no  such  thing,'  retorted  Pascuala,  raising  her  voice 
as  women  do.  'Either  you  are  not  paying  proper  attention  to  what 
I  am  telling  you,  or  you  pretend  not  to  understand  me.  For  I  never 

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Or  purple  JLanD 

said  the  spotted  hen  was  likely  to  have  the  pip;  and  if  she  is  the 
fattest  fowl  in  all  this  neighbourhood  you  may  thank  me,  after  the 
Virgin,  for  it,  as  neighbour  Gumesinda  often  says,  for  I  never  fail 
to  give  her  chopped  meat  three  times  a  day ;  and  that  is  why  she  is 
never  out  of  the  kitchen,  so  that  even  the  cats  are  afraid  to  come 
into  the  house,  for  she  flies  like  a  fury  into  their  faces.  But  you 
are  always  laying  hold  of  my  words  by  the  heels;  and  if  I  said 
anything  at  all  about  pip,  it  was  not  the  spotted  hen,  but  the  black 
cock  with  the  twisted  toe,  I  said  was  likely  to  have  it.' 

"To  the  devil  with  your  cock  and  your  hen!'  I  shouted,  rising 
in  haste  from  my  chair,  for  my  patience  was  all  gone  and  the 
woman  was  driving  me  crazy  with  her  story  of  a  twisted  toe  and 
what  neighbour  Gumesinda  said.  'And  may  all  the  curses  fall  on 
that  same  woman,  who  is  always  full  as  a  gazette  of  her  neighbours' 
affairs !  I  know  well  what  the  parsley  is  she  comes  to  gather  in  my 
garden.  It  is  not  enough  that  she  goes  about  the  country  giving 
importance  to  the  couplets  I  sang  to  Montenegro's  daughter,  when 
I  danced  with  her  at  Cousin  Teodoro's  dance  after  the  cattle-mark- 
ing, when,  heaven  knows,  I  never  cared  the  blue  end  of  a  finger-nail 
for  that  girl.  But  things  have  now  come  to  a  pretty  pass  when  even 
a  chicken  with  a  broken  toe  cannot  be  indisposed  in  my  house 
without  neighbour  Gumesinda  thrusting  her  beak  into  the  matter!' 

"Such  anger  did  I  feel  at  Pascuala  when  I  remembered  these 
things  and  other  things  besides,  for  there  is  no  end  to  that  woman's 
tongue,  that  I  could  have  thrown  the  dish  of  meat  at  her  head. 

"Just  then,  while  occupied  with  these  thoughts,  I  fell  asleep. 
Next  morning  I  got  up,  and  without  beating  my  head  any  more  I 
bought  the  horses  and  paid  Manuel  his  price.  For  there  is  in  me  this 
excellent  gift,  when  I  am  puzzled  in  mind  and  in  doubt  about 
anything,  night  makes  everything  plain  to  me,  and  I  rise  refreshed 
and  with  my  determination  formed." 

Here  ended  Anselmo's  story,  without  one  word  about  those 
marvellous  matters  he  had  set  out  to  tell.  They  had  all  been  clean 
forgotten.  He  began  to  make  a  cigarette,  and,  fearing  that  he  was 
about  to  launch  forth  on  some  fresh  subject,  I  hastily  bade  good 
night  and  retreated  to  my  bed. 

61 


Oc  purple  Latin 


CHAPTER  IX 

ARLY  next  morning  Anselmo  took  his  departure,  but  I  was 
r  up  in  time  to  say  good-bye  to  the  worthy  spinner  of  in- 
terminable yarns  leading  to  nothing.  I  was,  in  fact,  engaged 
in  performing  my  morning  ablutions  in  a  large  wooden  bucket 
under  the  willows  when  he  placed  himself  in  the  saddle;  then, 
after  carefully  arranging  the  drapery  of  his  picturesque  garments, 
he  trotted  gently  away,  the  picture  of  a  man  with  a  tranquil  stomach 
and  at  peace  with  the  whole  world,  even  neighbour  Gumesinda 
included. 

I  had  spent  a  somewhat  restless  night,  strange  to  say,  for  my 
hospitable  hostess  had  provided  me  with  a  deliciously  soft  bed,  a 
very  unusual  luxury  in  the  Banda  Oriental,  and  when  I  plunged 
into  it  there  were  no  hungry  bedfellows  waiting  my  advent  within 
its  mysterious  folds.  I  thought  about  the  pastoral  simplicity  of  the 
lives  and  character  of  the  good  people  slumbering  near  me;  and 
that  inconsequent  story  of  Anselmo's  about  Manuel  and  Pascuala 
caused  me  to  laugh  several  times.  Finally  my  thoughts,  which  had 
been  roaming  around  in  a  wild,  uncertain  manner,  like  rooks 
"blown  about  the  windy  skies,"  settled  quietly  down  to  the  con- 
sideration of  that  beautiful  anomaly,  that  mystery  of  mysteries,  the 
white-faced  Margarita.  For  how,  in  the  name  of  heredity,  had  she 
got  there  ?  Whence  that  pearly  skin  and  lithesome  form ;  the  proud, 
sweet  mouth,  the  nose  that  Phidias  might  have  taken  for  a  model; 
the  clear,  spiritual,  sapphire  eyes,  and  the  wealth  of  silky  hair,  that 
if  unbound  would  cover  her  as  with  a  garment  of  surpassing  beauty  ? 
With  such  a  problem  vexing  my  curious  brain,  what  sleep  could 
a  philosopher  get  ? 

When  Batata  saw  me  making  preparations  for  departure,  he 
warmly  pressed  me  to  stay  to  breakfast.  I  consented  at  once,  for, 

62 


Cfte  purple  LanB 

after  all,  the  more  leisurely  one  does  a  thing  the  sooner  will  it  be 
accomplished — especially  in  the  Banda  Oriental.  One  breakfasts 
here  at  noon,  so  that  I  had  plenty  of  time  to  see,  and  renew  my 
pleasure  in  seeing,  pretty  Margarita. 

In  the  course  of  the  morning  we  had  a  visitor;  a  traveller  who 
arrived  on  a  tired  horse,  and  who  slightly  knew  my  host  Batata, 
having,  I  was  told,  called  at  the  house  on  former  occasions.  Marcos 
Marco  was  his  name;  a  tall,  sallow-faced  individual  about  fifty 
years  old,  slightly  grey,  very  dirty,  and  wearing  threadbare  gaucho 
garments.  He  had  a  slouching  gait  and  manner,  and  a  patient, 
waiting,  hungry  animal  expression  of  face.  Very,  very  keen  were 
his  eyes,  and  I  detected  him  several  times  watching  me  narrowly. 

Leaving  this  Oriental  tramp  in  conversation  with  Batata,  who 
with  misplaced  kindness  had  offered  to  provide  him  with  a  fresh 
horse,  I  went  out  for  a  walk  before  breakfast.  During  my  walk, 
which  was  along  a  tiny  stream  at  the  foot  of  the  hill  on  which  the 
house  stood,  I  found  a  very  lovely  bell-shaped  flower  of  a  delicate 
rose-colour.  I  plucked  it  carefully  and  took  it  back  with  me,  think- 
ing it  just  possible  that  I  might  give  it  to  Margarita  should  she  hap- 
pen to  be  in  the  way.  On  my  return  to  the  house  I  found  the 
traveller  sitting  by  himself  under  the  corridor,  engaged  in  mending 
some  portion  of  his  dilapidated  horse-gear,  and  sat  down  to  have  a 
chat  with  him.  A  clever  bee  will  always  be  able  to  extract  honey 
enough  to  reward  him  from  any  flower,  and  so  I  did  not  hesitate 
tackling  this  outwardly  very  unpromising  subject. 

"And  so  you  are  an  Englishman,"  he  remarked,  after  we  had 
had  some  conversation;  and  I,  of  course,  replied  in  the  affirmative. 

"What  a  strange  thing!"  he  said.  "And  you  are  fond  of  gather- 
ing pretty  flowers?"  he  continued,  with  a  glance  at  my  treasure. 

"All  flowers  are  pretty,"  I  replied. 

"But  surely,  senor,  some  are  prettier  than  others.  Perhaps  you 
have  observed  a  particularly  pretty  one  growing  in  these  parts — 
the  white  margarita  ?" 

Margarita  is  the  Oriental  vernacular  for  verbena;  the  fragrant 
white  variety  is  quite  common  in  the  country;  so  that  I  was  justified 
in  ignoring  the  fellow's  rather  impudent  meaning.  Assuming  as 


Cfte  purple  LanD 

wooden  an  expression  as  I  could,  I  replied,  "Yes,  I  have  often  ob- 
served the  flower  you  speak  of;  it  is  fragrant,  and  to  my  mind 
surpasses  in  beauty  the  scarlet  and  purple  varieties.  But  you  must 
know,  my  friend,  that  I  am  a  botanist— that  is,  a  student  of  plants— 
and  they  are  all  equally  interesting  to  me." 

This  astonished  him;  and,  pleased  with  the  interest  he  appeared 
to  take  in  the  subject,  I  explained,  in  simple  language,  the  principles 
on  which  a  classification  of  plants  is  founded,  telling  him  about  that 
lingua  franca  by  means  of  which  all  the  botanists  in  the  world  of 
all  nations  are  able  to  converse  together  about  plants.  From  this 
somewhat  dry  subject  I  launched  into  the  more  fascinating  one  of 
the  physiology  of  plants.  "Now,  look  at  this,"  I  continued,  and  with 
my  penknife  I  carefully  dissected  the  flower  in  my  hand,  for  it 
was  evident  that  I  could  not  now  give  it  to  Margarita  without 
exposing  myself  to  remarks.  I  then  proceeded  to  explain  to  him 
the  beautiful  complex  structure  by  means  of  which  this  campanula 
fertilises  itself. 

He  listened  in  wonder,  exhausting  all  the  Spanish  and  Oriental 
equivalents  of  such  expressions  as  "Dear  me!"  "How  extraordinary!" 
"Lawks  a  mussy!"  "You  don't  say  so!"  I  finished  my  lecture,  satis- 
fied that  my  superior  intellect  had  baffled  the  rude  creature;  then, 
tossing  away  the  fragments  of  the  flower  I  had  sacrificed,  I  restored 
the  penknife  to  my  pocket. 

"These  are  matters  we  do  not  often  hear  about  in  the  Banda 
Oriental,"  he  said.  "But  the  English  know  everything — even  the 
secrets  of  a  flower.  They  are  also  able  to  do  most  things.  Did  you 
ever,  sir  botanist,  take  part  in  acting  a  comedy?" 

After  all,  I  had  wasted  my  flower  and  scientific  knowledge  on 
the  animal  for  nothing!  "Yes,  I  have!"  I  replied  rather  angrily; 
then,  suddenly  remembering  Eyebrows'  teaching,  I  added,  "and 
in  tragedy  also." 

"Is  that  so?"  he  exclaimed.  "How  amused  the  spectators  must 
have  been!  Well,  we  can  all  have  our  fill  of  fighting  presently,  for 
I  see  the  White  'Flower  coming  this  way  to  tell  us  that  breakfast 
is  ready.  Batata's  roast  beef  will  give  something  for  our  knives  to 

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Cfte  purple  JLanD 

do;  I  only  wish  we  had  one  of  his  own  floury  namesakes  to  eat 
with  it." 

I  swallowed  my  resentment,  and  when  Margarita  came  to  us, 
looked  up  into  her  matchless  face  with  a  smile,  then  rose  to  follow 
her  into  the  kitchen. 


Cfte  purple  LanB 


CHAPTER  X 

A  FTER  breakfast  I  bade  a  reluctant  good-bye  to  my  kind 

/—\     entertainers,  took  a  last  longing,  lingering  look  at  lovely 

JL.   -2A.  Margarita,  and  mounted  my  horse.  Scarcely  was  I  in  the 

saddle  before  Marcos  Marco,  who  was  also  about  to  resume  his 

journey  on  the  fresh  horse  he  had  borrowed,  remarked : 

"You  are  travelling  to  Montevideo,  good  friend;  I  am  also  going 
in  that  direction,  and  will  take  you  the  shortest  way." 

"The  road  will  show  me  the  way,"  I  rejoined  curtly. 

"The  road,"  he  said,  "is  like  a  lawsuit;  round-about,  full  of 
puddles  and  pitfalls,  and  long  to  travel.  It  is  only  meant  to  be  used 
by  old  half-blind  men  and  drivers  of  bullock-carts." 

I  hesitated  about  accepting  the  guidance  of  this  strange  fellow, 
who  appeared  to  have  a  ready  wit  under  his  heavy-slouching  ex- 
terior. The  mixed  contempt  and  humility  in  his  speech  every  time 
he  addressed  me  gave  me  an  uncomfortable  sensation;  then  his 
poverty-stricken  appearance  and  his  furtive  glances  filled  me  with 
suspicion.  I  looked  at  my  host,  who  was  standing  near,  thinking  to 
take  my  cue  from  the  expression  of  his  face ;  but  it  was  only  a  stolid 
Oriental  face  that  revealed  nothing.  An  ancient  rule  in  whist  is  to 
play  trumps  when  in  doubt;  now  my  rule  of  action  is,  when  two 
courses  are  open  to  me  and  I  am  in  doubt,  to  take  the  bolder  one. 
Acting  on  this  principle,  I  determined  to  go  with  Marcos,  and 
accordingly  we  rode  forth  together. 

My  guide  soon  struck  away  across-country,  leading  me  wide  of 
the  public  road,  through  such  lonely  places  that  I  at  length  began 
to  suspect  him  of  some  sinister  design  against  my  person,  since  I 
had  no  property  worth  taking.  Presently  he  surprised  me  by  saying: 
"You  were  right,  my  young  friend,  in  casting  away  idle  fears  when 
you  accepted  my  company.  Why  do  you  let  them  return  to  trouble 

66 


Or  Purple  JLant) 

your  peace?  Men  of  your  blood  have  never  inflicted  injuries  on  me 
that  cry  out  for  vengeance.  Can  I  make  myself  young  again  by 
shedding  your  life,  or  would  there  be  any  profit  in  changing  these 
rags  I  now  wear  for  your  garments,  which  are  also  dusty  and 
frayed  ?  No,  no,  sir  Englishman,  this  dress  of  patience  and  suffering 
and  exile,  my  covering  by  day  and  my  bed  by  night,  must  soon 
be  changed  for  brighter  garments  than  you  are  wearing." 

This  speech  relieved  me  sensibly,  and  I  smiled  at  the  poor  devil's 
ambitious  dream  of  wearing  a  soldier's  greasy  red  jacket;  for  I 
supposed  that  that  was  what  his  words  meant.  Still,  his  "shortest 
way"  to  Montevideo  continued  to  puzzle  me  considerably.  For  two 
or  three  hours  we  had  been  riding  nearly  parallel  to  a  range  of 
hills,  or  cuchilla,  extending  away  on  our  left  hand  towards  the 
south-east.  But  we  were  gradually  drawing  nearer  to  it,  and  appar- 
ently going  purposely  out  of  our  way  only  to  traverse  a  most  lonely 
and  difficult  country.  The  few  estanda  houses  we  passed,  perched 
on  the  highest  points  of  the  great  sweep  of  moor-like  country  on 
our  right,  appeared  to  be  very  far  away.  Where  we  rode  there  were 
no  habitations,  not  even  a  shepherd's  hovel ;  the  dry,  stony  soil  was 
thinly  covered  with  a  forest  of  dwarf  thorn-trees,  and  a  scanty 
pasturage  burnt  to  a  rust-brown  colour  by  the  summer  heats;  and 
out  of  this  arid  region  rose  the  hills,  their  brown,  woodless  sides 
looking  strangely  gaunt  and  desolate  in  the  fierce  noonday  sun. 

Pointing  to  the  open  country  on  our  right,  where  the  blue  gleam 
of  a  river  was  visible,  I  said :  "My  friend,  I  assure  you,  I  fear  nothing, 
but  I  cannot  understand  why  you  keep  near  these  hills  when  the 
valley  over  there  would  have  been  pleasanter  for  ourselves,  and 
easier  for  our  horses." 

"I  do  nothing  without  a  reason,"  he  said,  with  a  strange  smile. 
"The  water  you  see  over  there  is  the  Rio  de  las  Canas  [River  of 
Grey  Hairs],  and  those  who  go  down  into  its  valley  grow  old  before 
their  time." 

Occasionally  talking,  but  oftener  silent,  we  jogged  on  till  about 
three  o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  when  suddenly,  as  we  were  skirting 
a  patch  of  scraggy  woodland,  a  troop  of  six  armed  men  emerged 
from  it,  and,  wheeling  about,  came  directly  towards  us.  A  glance 

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Cfte  purple  JLanD 

was  enough  to  tell  us  that  they  were  soldiers  or  mounted  police- 
men, scouring  the  country  in  search  of  recruits,  or,  in  other  words, 
of  deserters,  skulking  criminals,  and  vagabonds  of  all  descriptions. 
I  had  nothing  to  fear  from  them,  but  an  exclamation  of  rage  escaped 
my  companion's  lips,  and,  turning  to  him,  I  perceived  that  his  face 
was  of  the  whiteness  of  ashes.  I  laughed,  for  revenge  is  sweet,  and 
I  still  smarted  a  little  at  his  contemptuous  treatment  of  me  earlier 
in  the  day. 

"Is  your  fear  so  great?"  I  said. 

"You  do  not  know  what  you  say,  boy!"  he  returned  fiercely. 
"When  you  have  passed  through  as  much  hell-fire  as  I  have  and 
have  rested  as  sweetly  with  a  corpse  for  a  pillow,  you  will  learn  to 
curb  your  impertinent  tongue  when  you  address  a  man." 

An  angry  retort  was  on  my  lips,  but  a  glance  at  his  face  pre- 
vented me  from  uttering  it — it  was,  in  its  expression,  the  face  of  a 
wild  animal  worried  by  dogs. 

In  another  moment  the  men  had  cantered  up  to  us,  and  one, 
their  commander,  addressing  me,  asked  to  see  my  passport. 

"I  carry  no  passport,"  I  replied.  "My  nationality  is  a  sufficient 
protection,  for  I  am  an  Englishman  as  you  can  see." 

"We  have  only  your  word  for  that,"  said  the  man.  "There  is  an 
English  consul  in  the  capital,  who  provides  English  subjects  with 
passports  for  their  protection,  in  this  country.  If  you  have  not  got 
one  you  must  suffer  for  it,  and  no  one  but  yourself  is  to  blame. 
I  see  in  you  only  a  young  man  complete  in  all  his  members,  and 
of  such  the  republic  is  in  need.  Your  speech  is  also  like  that  of  one 
who  came  into  the  world  under  this  sky.  You  must  go  with  us." 

"I  shall  do  nothing  of  the  sort,"  I  returned. 

"Do  not  say  such  a  thing,  master,"  said  Marcos,  astonishing  me 
very  much  with  the  change  in  his  tone  and  manner.  "You  know 
I  warned  you  a  month  ago  that  it  was  imprudent  to  leave  Monte- 
video without  our  passports.  This  officer  is  only  obeying  the  orders 
he  has  received;  still,  he  might  see  that  we  are  only  what  we  repre- 
sent ourselves  to  be." 

"Oh!"  exclaimed  the  officer,  turning  to  Marcos,  "you  are  also 
an  Englishman  unprovided  with  a  passport,  I  suppose?  You  might 

68 


Cfte  purple  HanO 

at  least  have  supplied  yourself  with  a  couple  of  blue  crockery  eyes 
and  a  yellow  beard  for  your  greater  safety." 

"I  am  only  a  poor  son  of  the  soil,"  said  Marcos  meekly.  "This 
young  Englishman  is  looking  for  an  cstancia  to  buy,  and  I  came 
as  his  attendant  from  the  capital.  We  were  very  careless  not  to  get 
our  passports  before  starting." 

"Then,  of  course,  this  young  man  has  plenty  of  money  in  his 
pocket?"  said  the  officer. 

I  did  not  relish  the  lies  Marcos  had  taken  upon  himself  to  tell 
about  me,  but  did  not  quite  know  what  the  consequences  of  con- 
tradicting them  might  be.  I  therefore  replied  that  I  was  not  so 
foolish  as  to  travel  in  a  country  like  the  Banda  Oriental  with  money 
on  my  person.  "To  pay  for  bread  and  cheese  till  I  reach  my  destina- 
tion is  about  as  much  as  I  have,"  I  added. 

"The  government  of  this  country  is  a  generous  one,"  said  the 
officer  sarcastically,  "and  will  pay  for  all  the  bread  and  cheese  you 
will  require.  It  will  also  provide  you  with  beef.  You  must  now 
come  with  me  to  the  Juzgado  de  las  Cuevas,  both  of  you." 

Seeing  no  help  for  it,  we  accompanied  our  captors  at  a  swinging 
gallop  over  a  rough,  undulating  country,  and  in  about  an  hour 
and  a  half  reached  Las  Cuevas,  a  dirty,  miserable-looking  village, 
composed  of  a  few  ranches  built  round  a  large  plaza  overgrown 
with  weeds.  On  one  side  stood  the  church,  on  the  other  a  square 
stone  building  with  a  flagstaff  before  it.  This  was  the  official  build- 
ing of  the  Juez  de  Paz,  or  rural  magistrate;  just  now,  however,  it 
was  closed,  and  with  no  sign  of  life  about  it  except  an  old  dead-and- 
alive-looking  man  sitting  against  the  closed  door,  with  his  bare, 
mahogany-coloured  legs  stretched  out  in  the  hot  sunshine. 

"This  is  a  very  fine  thing!"  exclaimed  the  officer,  with  a  curse. 
"I  feel  very  much  inclined  to  let  the  men  go." 

"You  will  lose  nothing  by  doing  so,  except,  perhaps,  a  headache," 
said  Marcos. 

"Hold  your  tongue  till  your  advice  is  asked!"  retorted  the  officer, 
thoroughly  out  of  temper. 

"Lock  them  up  in  the  calaboso  till  the  Juez  comes  to-morrow, 

69 


Cfte  Ipurple  JUnD 


Lieutenant,"  suggested  the  old  man  by  the  door,  speaking  through 
a  bushy  white  beard  and  a  cloud  of  tobacco-smoke. 

"Do  you  not  know  that  the  door  is  broken,  old  fool  ?"  said  the 
officer.  "Lock  them  up!  Here  I  am  neglecting  my  own  affairs  to 
serve  the  State,  and  this  is  how  I  am  treated.  We  must  now  take 
them  to  the  Juez  at  his  own  house  and  let  him  look  after  them. 
Come  on,  boys." 

We  were  then  conducted  out  of  Las  Cuevas  to  a  distance  of 
about  two  miles,  where  the  Senor  Juez  resided  in  the  bosom  of  his 
family.  His  private  residence  was  a  very  dirty,  neglected-looking 
estancia  house,  with  a  great  many  dogs,  fowls,  and  children  about. 
We  dismounted,  and  were  immediately  taken  into  a  large  room, 
where  the  magistrate  sat  at  a  table  on  which  lay  a  great  number 
of  papers  —  goodness  knows  what  they  were  about.  The  Juez  was 
a  little  hatchet-faced  man,  with  bristly  grey  whiskers,  standing  out 
like  a  cat's  moustache,  and  angry  eyes  —  or,  rather  with  one  angry 
eye,  for  over  the  other  a  cotton  handkerchief  was  tied.  No  sooner 
had  we  all  entered  than  a  hen,  leading  a  brood  of  a  dozen  half- 
grown  chickens,  rushed  into  the  room  after  us,  the  chickens  in- 
stantly distributing  themselves  about  the  floor  in  quest  of  crumbs, 
while  the  mother,  more  ambitious,  flew  on  the  table,  scattering  the 
papers  right  and  left  with  the  wind  she  created. 

"A  thousand  demons  take  the  fowls!"  cried  the  Juez,  starting 
up  in  a  fury.  "Man,  go  and  bring  your  mistress  here  this  instant. 
I  command  her  to  come." 

This  order  was  obeyed  by  the  person  who  had  ushered  us  in, 
a  greasy-looking,  swarthy-faced  individual,  in  threadbare  military 
clothes;  and  in  two  or  three  minutes  he  returned,  followed  by  a 
very  fat,  slatternly  woman,  looking  very  good-tempered,  however, 
who  immediately  subsided,  quite  exhausted,  into  a  chair. 

"What  is  it,  Fernando?"  she  panted. 

"What  is  it?  How  can  you  have  the  courage  to  ask  such  a 
question,  Toribia?  Look  at  the  confusion  your  pestilent  fowls  are 
creating  amongst  my  papers  —  papers  that  concern  the  safety  of  the 
republic!  Woman,  what  measures  are  you  going  to  take  to  stop 
this  before  I  have  your  fowls  all  killed  on  the  spot?" 

70 


Cfte  Iputple  JLanD 


"What  can  I  do,  Fernando?  —  they  are  hungry,  I  suppose.  I 
thought  you  wanted  to  ask  my  advice  about  these  prisoners  —  poor 
fellows!  and  here  you  are  with  your  hens." 

Her  placid  manner  acted  like  oil  on  the  fire  of  his  wrath.  He 
stormed  about  the  room,  kicking  over  chairs,  and  hurling  rulers 
and  paper-weights  at  the  birds,  apparently  with  the  most  deadly 
intentions,  but  with  shockingly  bad  aim  —  shouting,  shaking  his  fist 
at  his  wife,  and  even  threatening  to  commit  her  for  contempt  of 
court  when  she  laughed.  At  last,  after  a  great  deal  of  trouble,  the 
fowls  were  all  got  out,  and  the  servant  placed  to  guard  the  door, 
with  strict  orders  to  decapitate  the  first  chicken  that  should  attempt 
to  enter  and  disturb  the  proceedings. 

Order  being  restored,  the  Juez  lit  a  cigarette  and  began  to  smooth 
his  ruffled  feathers.  "Proceed,"  he  said  to  the  officer,  from  his  seat 
at  the  table. 

"Sir,"  said  the  officer,  "in  pursuance  of  my  duty  I  have  taken  in 
charge  these  two  strangers,  who  are  unprovided  with  passports  or 
documents  of  any  description  to  corroborate  their  statements.  Ac- 
cording to  their  story,  the  young  man  is  an  English  millionaire 
going  about  the  country  buying  up  estates,  while  the  other  man  is 
his  servant.  There  are  twenty-five  reasons  for  disbelieving  their 
story,  but  I  have  not  sufficient  time  to  impart  them  to  you  now. 
Having  found  the  doors  of  the  Juzgado  closed,  I  have  brought  these 
men  here  with  great  inconvenience  to  myself;  and  I  am  now  only 
waiting  to  have  this  business  despatched  without  further  delay, 
so  that  I  may  have  a  little  time  left  to  devote  to  my  private  affairs." 

"Address  not  me  in  this  imperative  manner,  sir  officer!"  ex- 
claimed the  Juez,  his  anger  blazing  out  afresh.  "Do  you  imagine, 
sir,  that  I  have  no  private  interests;  that  the  State  feeds  and  clothes 
my  wife  and  children?  No,  sir,  I  am  the  servant  of  the  republic, 
not  the  slave;  and  I  beg  to  remind  you  that  official  business  must 
be  transacted  during  the  proper  hours  and  at  the  proper  place." 

"Sir  Juez,"  said  the  officer,  "it  is  my  opinion  that  a  civil  magis- 
trate ought  never  to  have  any  part  in  matters  which  more  properly 
come  under  the  military  authorities.  However,  since  these  things 
are  differently  arranged,  and  I  am  compelled  to  come  with  my 


Cfte  purple  LanD 

reports  to  you  in  the  first  place,  I  am  only  here  to  know,  without 
entering  into  any  discussion  concerning  your  position  in  the  re- 
public, what  is  to  be  done  with  these  two  prisoners  I  have  brought 
before  you." 

"Done  with  them!  Send  them  to  the  devil!  cut  their  throats; 
let  them  go;  do  what  you  like,  since  you  are  responsible,  not  L 
And  be  sure,  sir  officer,  I  shall  not  fail  to  report  your  insubordinate 
language  to  your  superiors." 

"Your  threats  do  not  alarm  me,"  said  the  officer;  "for  one  can- 
not be  guilty  of  insubordination  towards  a  person  one  is  not  bound 
to  obey.  And  now,  sirs,"  he  added,  turning  to  us,  "I  have  been 
advised  to  release  you;  you  are  free  to  continue  your  journey." 

Marcos  rose  with  alacrity. 

"Man,  sit  down!"  yelled  the  irate  magistrate,  and  poor  Marcos, 
thoroughly  crestfallen,  sat  down  again.  "Sir  Lieutenant,"  continued 
the  fierce  old  man,  "you  are  dismissed  from  further  attendance 
here.  The  republic  you  profess  to  serve  would  perhaps  be  just  as 
well  off  without  your  valuable  aid.  Go,  sir,  to  attend  to  your  private 
affairs,  and  leave  your  men  here  to  execute  my  commands." 

The  officer  rose,  and,  having  made  a  profound  and  sarcastic 
bow,  turned  on  his  heel  and  left  the  room. 

"Take  these  two  prisoners  to  the  stocks,"  continued  the  little 
despot.  "I  will  examine  them  to-morrow." 

Marcos  was  first  marched  out  of  the  room  by  two  of  the  soldiers ; 
for  it  happened  that  an  outhouse  on  the  place  was  provided  with 
the  usual  wooden  arrangement  to  make  captives  secure  for  the 
night.  But  when  the  other  men  took  me  by  the  arms,  I  recovered 
from  the  astonishment  the  magistrate's  order  had  produced  in  me, 
and  shook  them  roughly  aside.  "Sefior  Juez,"  I  said,  addressing 
him,  "let  me  beg  you  to  consider  what  you  are  doing.  Surely  my 
accent  is  enough  to  satisfy  any  reasonable  person  that  I  am  not  a 
native  of  this  country.  I  am  willing  to  remain  in  your  custody,  or  to 
go  wherever  you  like  to  send  me;  but  your  men  shall  tear  me  to 
pieces  before  making  me  suffer  the  indignity  of  the  stocks.  If  you 
maltreat  me  in  any  way,  I  warn  you  that  the  government  you  serve 
will  only  censure,  and  perhaps  ruin  you,  for  your  imprudent  zeal." 

72 


Cfte  Purple  JtanD 

Before  he  could  reply,  his  fat  spouse,  who  had  apparently  taken 
a  great  fancy  to  me,  interposed  on  my  behalf,  and  persuaded  the 
little  savage  to  spare  me. 

"Very  well,"  he  said,  "consider  yourself  a  guest  in  my  house  for 
the  present;  if  you  are  telling  the  truth  about  yourself,  a  day's 
detention  cannot  hurt  you." 

I  was  then  conducted  by  my  kind  intercessor  into  the  kitchen, 
where  we  all  sat  down  to  partake  of  mate  and  talk  ourselves  into 
good  humour. 

I  began  to  feel  rather  sorry  for  poor  Marcos,  for  even  a  worthless 
vagabond,  such  as  he  appeared  to  be,  becomes  an  object  of  com- 
passion when  misfortune  overtakes  him,  and  I  asked  permission  to 
see  him.  This  was  readily  granted.  I  found  him  confined  in  a  large 
empty  room  built  apart  from  the  house ;  he  had  been  provided  with 
a  mate-cup  and  a  kettle  of  hot  water,  and  was  sipping  his  bitter 
beverage  with  an  air  of  stoical  indifference.  His  legs,  confined  in  the 
stocks,  were  thrust  straight  out  before  him;  but  I  suppose  he  was 
accustomed  to  uncomfortable  positions,  for  he  did  not  seem  to  mind 
it  much.  After  sympathising  with  him  in  a  general  way,  I  asked 
him  whether  he  could  really  sleep  in  that  position. 

"No,"  he  replied,  with  indifference.  "But,  do  you  know,  I  do 
not  mind  about  being  taken.  They  will  send  me  to  the  comandancia, 
I  suppose,  and  after  a  few  days  liberate  me.  I  am  a  good  workman 
on  horseback,  and  there  will  not  be  wanting  some  estancicro  in  need 
of  hands  to  get  me  out.  Will  you  do  me  one  small  service,  friend, 
before  you  go  to  your  bed  ?" 

"Yes,  certainly,  if  I  can,"  I  answered. 

He  laughed  slightly  and  looked  at  me  with  a  strange,  keen 
glitter  in  his  eyes;  then,  taking  my  hand,  he  gave  it  a  powerful 
grip.  "No,  no,  my  friend,  I  am  not  going  to  trouble  you  to  do 
anything  for  me,"  he  said.  "I  have  the  devil's  temper,  and  to-day, 
in  a  moment  of  rage,  I  insulted  you.  It  therefore  surprised  me  when 
you  came  here  and  spoke  kindly  to  me.  I  desired  to  know  whether 
that  feeling  was  only  on  the  surface;  since  the  men  one  meets  with 
are  often  like  horned  cattle.  When  one  falls,  his  companions  of 

73 


Cfce  Purple  lunfl 

the  pasture-ground  remember  only  his  past  oflences,  and  make 
haste  to  gore  him." 

His  manner  surprised  me;  he  did  not  now  seem  like  the  Marcos 
Marco  I  had  travelled  with  that  day.  Touched  with  his  words,  I 
sat  down  on  the  stocks  facing  him,  and  begged  him  to  tell  me 
what  I  could  do  for  him. 

"Well,  friend,"  said  he,  "you  see  the  stocks  are  fastened  with  a 
padlock.  If  you  will  get  the  key,  and  take  me  out,  I  will  sleep  well ; 
then  in  the  morning,  before  the  old  one-eyed  lunatic  is  up,  you 
can  come  and  turn  the  key  in  the  lock  again.  Nobody  will  be  the 
wiser." 

"And  you  are  not  thinking  of  escaping?"  I  said. 

"I  have  not  even  the  faintest  wish  to  escape,"  he  replied. 

"You  could  not  escape  if  you  did,"  I  said,  "for  the  room  would 
be  locked,  of  course.  But  if  I  were  disposed  to  do  what  you  ask, 
how  could  I  get  the  key  ?" 

"That  is  an  easy  matter,"  said  Marcos.  "Ask  the  good  senora 
to  let  you  have  it.  Did  I  not  notice  her  eyes  dwelling  lovingly  on 
your  face — for,  doubtless,  you  reminded  her  of  some  absent  relative, 
a  favourite  nephew,  perhaps.  She  would  not  deny  you  anything  in 
reason;  and  a  kindness,  friend,  even  to  the  poorest  man,  is  never 
thrown  away." 

"I  will  think  about  it,"  I  said,  and  shortly  after  that  I  left  him. 

It  was  a  sultry  evening,  and,  the  close,  smoky  atmosphere  of 
the  kitchen  becoming  unendurable,  I  went  out  and  sat  down  on  a 
log  of  wood  out  of  doors.  Here  the  old  Juez,  in  his  character  of 
amiable  host,  came  and  discoursed  for  half  an  hour  on  lofty  mat- 
ters relating  to  the  republic.  Presently  his  wife  came  out,  and, 
declaring  that  the  evening  air  would  have  an  injurious  effect  on  his 
inflamed  eye,  persuaded  him  to  go  indoors.  Then  she  subsided  into 
a  place  at  my  side,  and  began  to  talk  about  Fernando's  dreadful 
temper  and  the  many  cares  of  her  life. 

"What  a  very  serious  young  man  you  are!"  she  remarked,  chang- 
ing her  tone  somewhat  abruptly.  "Do  you  keep  all  your  gay  and 
pleasant  speeches  for  the  young  and  pretty  senoritas?" 

"Ah,  senora,  you  are  yourself  young  and  beautiful  in  my  eyes," 

74 


Cfce  Purple  LanD 

I  replied;  "but  I  have  no  heart  to  be  gay  when  my  poor  fellow- 
traveller  is  fastened  in  the  stocks,  where  your  cruel  husband  would 
also  have  confined  me  but  for  your  timely  intervention.  You  are  so 
kind-hearted,  cannot  you  have  his  poor  tired  legs  taken  out  in 
order  that  he  may  also  rest  properly  to-night?" 

"Ah,  little  friend,"  she  returned.  "I  could  not  attempt  such  a 
thing.  Fernando  is  a  monster  of  cruelty,  and  would  immediately 
put  out  my  eyes  without  remorse.  Poor  me,  what  I  have  to  endure!" 
— and  here  she  placed  her  fat  hand  on  mine. 

I  drew  my  hand  away  somewhat  coldly;  a  born  diplomatist 
could  not  have  managed  the  thing  better. 

"Madam,"  I  said,  "you  are  amusing  yourself  at  my  expense. 
When  you  have  done  me  a  great  favour,  will  you  now  deny  me 
this  small  thing?  If  your  husband  is  so  terrible  a  despot,  surely 
you  can  do  this  without  letting  him  know!  Let  me  get  my  poor 
Marcos  out  of  the  stocks  and  I  give  you  my  word  of  honour  that 
the  Juez  will  never  hear  of  it,  for  I  will  be  up  early  to  turn  the  key 
in  the  lock  before  he  is  out  of  his  bed." 

"And  what  will  my  reward  be?"  she  asked,  again  putting  her 
hand  on  mine. 

"The  deep  gratitude  and  devotion  of  my  heart,"  I  returned,  this 
time  without  withdrawing  my  hand. 

"Can  I  refuse  anything  to  my  sweet  boy?"  said  she.  "After  sup- 
per I  shall  slip  the  key  into  your  hand;  I  am  going  now  to  get  it 
from  his  room.  Before  Fernando  retires,  ask  to  see  your  Marcos,  to 
take  him  a  rug,  or  some  tobacco  or  something;  and  do  not  let 
the  servant  see  what  you  do,  for  he  will  be  at  the  door  waiting  to 
lock  it  when  you  come  out." 

After  supper  the  promised  key  was  secretly  conveyed  to  me, 
and  I  had  not  the  least  difficulty  in  liberating  my  friend  in  mis- 
fortune. Luckily  the  man  who  took  me  to  Marcos  left  us  alone  for 
some  time,  and  I  related  my  conversation  with  the  fat  woman. 

He  jumped  up,  and,  seizing  my  hand,  wrung  it  till  I  almost 
screamed  with  pain. 

"My  good  friend,"  he  said,  "you  have  a  noble,  generous  soul, 
and  have  done  me  the  greatest  service  it  is  possible  for  one  man 

75 


C&e  purple 

to  render  to  another.  You  have,  in  fact,  now  placed  me  in  a  position 
to — enjoy  my  night's  rest.  Good  night,  and  may  Heaven's  angels 
put  it  in  my  power  to  reward  you  at  some  future  time!" 

The  fellow  was  overdoing  it  a  little,  I  thought;  then,  when  I 
had  seen  him  safely  locked  up  for  the  night,  I  walked  back  to  the 
kitchen  slowly  and  very  thoughtfully. 


Cftc  purple 


CHAPTER  XI 

I  WALKED  thoughtfully  back,  because,  after  rendering  that 
unimportant  service  to  Marcos,  I  began  to  experience  sundry 
qualms  of  conscience  and  inward  questionings  concerning  the 
strict  morality  of  the  whole  proceeding.  Allowing  that  I  had  done 
something  very  kind,  charitable,  and  altogether  praiseworthy  in 
getting  the  poor  fellow's  unfortunate  feet  out  of  the  stocks,  did  all 
that  justify  the  cajolery  I  had  practised  to  attain  my  object?  Or,  to 
put  it  briefly  in  the  old  familiar  way:  Does  the  end  sanctify  the 
means?  Assuredly  it  does  in  some  cases,  very  easy  to  be  imagined. 
Let  us  suppose  that  I  have  a  beloved  friend,  an  ailing  person  of  a 
nervous,  delicate  organisation,  who  has  taken  it  into  his  poor 
cracked  brains  that  he  is  going  to  expire  at  the  stroke  of  twelve 
on  a  given  night.  Without  consulting  the  authorities  on  ethical 
questions,  I  should,  in  such  a  case,  flit  about  his  room  secretly 
manipulating  his  timepieces,  till  I  had  advanced  them  a  whole 
hour,  and  then,  just  before  the  stroke  of  midnight,  triumphantly 
produce  my  watch  and  inform  him  that  death  had  failed  to  keep 
the  appointment.  Such  an  acted  lie  as  that  would  weigh  nothing  on 
the  conscience  of  any  man.  The  fact  of  the  matter  is,  the  circum- 
stances must  always  be  considered  and  every  case  judged  on  its  own 
particular  merits.  Now,  this  affair  of  getting  the  key  was  not  one  for 
me  to  judge,  since  I  had  been  a  chief  actor  in  it,  but  rather  for  some 
acute  and  learned  casuist.  I  therefore  made  a  mental  note  of  it, 
with  the  intention  of  putting  it  impartially  before  the  first  person 
of  that  description  I  should  meet.  Having  thus  disposed  of  a  trou- 
blesome matter,  I  felt  greatly  relieved  in  mind,  and  turned  into  the 
kitchen  once  more.  I  had  scarcely  sat  down,  however,  before  I 
found  that  one  disagreeable  consequence  of  my  performance — the 
fat  senora's  claim  on  my  undying  devotion  and  gratitude — had  yet 

77 


Cfte  Purple  JLanfl 

to  be  faced.  She  greeted  my  entrance  with  an  effusive  smile;  and 
the  sweetest  smiles  of  some  people  one  meets  are  less  endurable  than 
their  black  looks.  In  self-defence  I  assumed  as  drowsy  and  vacant 
an  expression  as  I  could  summon  on  the  instant  to  a  countenance 
by  nature  almost  too  ingenuous.  I  pretended  not  to  hear,  or  to 
misunderstand,  everything  that  was  said  to  me;  finally  I  grew  so 
sleepy  that  I  was  several  times  on  the  point  of  falling  off  my  chair, 
then,  after  each  extravagant  nod,  I  would  start  up  and  stare  vacantly 
around  me.  My  grim  little  host  could  scarcely  conceal  a  quiet  smile, 
for  never  had  he  seen  a  person  so  outrageously  sleepy  before.  At 
length  he  mercifully  remarked  that  I  seemed  fatigued,  and  advised 
me  to  retire.  Very  gladly  I  made  my  exit,  followed  in  my  retreat 
from  the  kitchen  by  a  pair  of  sad,  reproachful  eyes. 

I  slept  soundly  enough  in  the  comfortable  bed,  which  my  obese 
Gulnare  had  provided  for  me,  until  the  numerous  cocks  of  the 
establishment  woke  me  shortly  after  daybreak  with  their  crowing. 
Remembering  that  I  had  to  secure  Marcos  in  the  stocks  before  the 
irascible  little  magistrate  should  appear  on  the  scene,  I  rose  and 
hastily  dressed  myself.  I  found  the  greasy  man  of  the  brass  buttons 
already  in  the  kitchen  sipping  his  matutinal  mate-amargo,  and 
asked  him  to  lend  me  the  key  of  the  prisoner's  room;  for  this  was 
what  I  had  been  instructed  to  do  by  the  senora.  He  got  up  and 
went  with  me  to  open  the  door  himself,  not  caring,  I  suppose,  to 
trust  me  with  the  key.  When  he  threw  the  door  open  we  stood 
silently  gazing  for  some  time  into  the  empty  apartment.  The  pris- 
oner had  vanished  and  a  large  hole  cut  in  the  thatch  of  the  roof 
showed  how  and  where  he  had  made  his  exit.  I  felt  very  much 
exasperated  at  the  shabby  trick  the  fellow  had  played  on  us,  on  me 
especially,  for  I  was  in  a  measure  responsible  for  him.  Fortunately 
the  man  who  opened  the  door  never  suspected  me  of  being  an 
accomplice,  but  merely  remarked  that  the  stocks  had  evidently  been 
left  unlocked  by  the  soldiers  the  evening  before,  so  that  it  was 
not  strange  the  prisoner  had  made  his  escape. 

When  the  other  members  of  the  household  got  up,  the  matter 
was  discussed  with  little  excitement  or  even  interest,  and  I  soon 
concluded  that  the  secret  of  the  escape  would  remain  between  the 


Cfte  purple  JLanD 

lady  of  the  house  and  myself.  She  watched  for  an  opportunity  to 
speak  to  me  alone,  then,  shaking  her  fat  forefinger  at  me  in  playful 
anger,  whispered,  "Ah,  deceiver,  you  planned  it  all  with  him  last 
evening  and  only  made  me  your  instrument!" 

"Senora,"  I  protested,  with  dignity,  "I  assure  you  on  the  word 
of  honour  of  an  Englishman,  I  never  suspected  the  man  had  any 
intention  of  escaping.  I  am  very  angry  it  has  happened." 

"What  do  you  suppose  I  care  about  his  escaping?"  she  replied 
laughingly.  "For  your  sake,  sweet  friend,  I  would  gladly  open  the 
doors  of  every  prison  in  the  Banda  if  I  had  the  power." 

"Ah,  how  you  flatter!  But  I  must  now  go  to  your  husband  to 
learn  from  him  what  he  intends  doing  with  the  prisoner  who  has 
not  attempted  to  escape." 

With  this  excuse  I  got  away  from  her. 

The  wretched  little  Juez,  when  I  spoke  to  him,  put  me  oft 
with  a  number  of  vague,  meaningless  phrases  about  his  responsible 
position,  the  peculiar  nature  of  his  functions,  and  the  unsettled  state 
of  the  republic — as  if  it  had  ever  known  or  was  ever  likely  to  know 
any  other  state!  He  then  mounted  his  horse  and  rode  away  to  Las 
Cuevas,  leaving  me  with  that  dreadful  woman ;  and  I  verily  believe 
that  in  doing  so  he  was  only  carrying  out  her  private  instructions. 
The  only  comfort  he  gave  me  was  the  promise  he  made  before 
going  that  a  communication  respecting  me  would  be  forwarded  to 
the  Commandante  of  the  district  in  the  course  of  the  day,  which 
would  probably  result  in  my  being  passed  on  to  that  functionary. 
In  the  meanwhile  he  begged  me  to  make  free  use  of  his  house  and 
everything  in  it.  Of  course,  the  misguided  little  wretch  had  no 
intention  of  throwing  his  fat  wife  at  my  head ;  still,  I  had  no  doubt 
that  it  was  she  who  inspired  these  complimentary  phrases,  telling 
him,  perhaps,  that  he  would  lose  nothing  by  a  courteous  treatment 
of  the  "English  millionaire." 

When  he  rode  away  he  left  me  sitting  on  the  gate,  feeling  very 
much  disgusted,  and  almost  wishing  that,  like  Marcos  Marco,  I 
had  run  away  during  the  night.  Never  had  I  taken  so  sudden  and 
violent  a  dislike  to  anything  as  I  then  and  there  did  to  that  estancia, 
where  I  was  an  honoured,  albeit  a  compulsory  guest.  The  hot,  bril- 

79 


Cfte  purple  JLanB 

liant  morning  sun  shone  down  on  the  discoloured  thatch  and  mud- 
plastered  walls  of  the  sordid-looking  building,  while  all  about  wher- 
ever I  cast  my  eyes  they  rested  on  weeds,  old  bones,  broken  bot- 
tles, and  other  rubbish — eloquent  witnesses  of  the  dirty,  idle, 
thriftless  character  of  the  inmates.  Meanwhile  my  sweet,  angelic 
child-wife,  with  her  violet  eyes  dim  with  tears,  was  waiting  for  me 
far  away  in  Montevideo,  wondering  at  my  long  absence,  and  even 
now  perhaps  shading  her  face  with  her  lily  hand  and  looking  out 
on  the  white  dusty  road  watching  for  my  arrival!  And  here  I  was 
compelled  to  sit,  idly  swinging  my  legs  on  the  gate,  because  that 
abominable  fat  woman  had  taken  a  fancy  to  keep  me  by  her !  Feel- 
ing mad  with  indignation,  I  suddenly  jumped  down  from  the  gate 
with  an  exclamation  not  intended  for  ears  polite,  causing  my  hostess 
to  jump  also  and  utter  a  scream;  for  there  she  was  (confound  her!) 
standing  just  behind  me. 

"The  Saints  defend  me!"  she  exclaimed,  recovering  herself  and 
laughing;  "what  made  you  startle  me  so?" 

I  apologised  for  the  strong  expression  I  had  used;  then  added, 
"Senora,  I  am  a  young  man  full  of  energy  and  accustomed  to  take 
a  great  deal  of  exercise  every  day,  and  I  am  getting  very  impatient 
sitting  here  basking  in  the  sunshine,  like  a  turtle  on  a  bank  of  mud." 

"Why,  then,  do  you  not  take  a  walk?"  she  said,  with  kind 
concern. 

I  said  I  would  gladly  do  so,  and  thanked  her  for  the  permission ; 
then  she  immediately  offered  to  accompany  me.  I  protested  very 
ungallantly  that  I  was  a  fast  walker,  and  reminded  her  that  the 
sun  was  excessively  hot,  and  I  should  also  have  liked  to  add  that 
she  was  excessively  fat.  She  replied  that  it  did  not  matter;  so  polite 
a  person  as  myself  would  know  how  to  accommodate  his  pace  to 
that  of  his  companion.  Unable  to  shake  her  off,  I  started  for  my 
walk  in  a  somewhat  unamiable  mood,  the  stout  lady  resolutely 
trudging  on  at  my  side,  perspiring  abundantly.  Our  path  led  us 
down  to  a  little  canada,  or  valley,  where  the  ground  was  moist  and 
abounding  with  numerous  pretty  flowers  and  feathery  grasses,  very 
refreshing  to  look  at  after  leaving  the  parched  yellow  ground  about 
the  cstanda  house. 

80 


Cfte  Iputple  JLanD 


"You  seem  to  be  very  fond  of  flowers,"  observed  my  companion. 
"Let  me  help  you  gather  fhem.  To  whom  will  you  give  your 
nosegay  when  it  is  made?" 

"Senora,"  I  replied,  vexed  at  her  trivial  chatter,  "I  will  give  it 
to  the  -  "  I  had  almost  said  to  the  devil,  when  a  piercing  scream 
she  uttered  suddenly  arrested  the  rude  speech  on  my  lips. 

Her  fright  had  been  caused  by  a  pretty  little  snake,  about 
eighteen  inches  long,  which  she  had  seen  gliding  away  at  her 
feet.  And  no  wonder  it  glided  away  from  her  with  all  the  speed 
it  was  capable  of,  for  how  gigantic  and  deformed  a  monster  that 
fat  woman  must  have  seemed  to  it  !  The  terror  of  a  timid  little  child 
at  the  sight  of  a  hippopotamus,  robed  in  flowing  bed-curtains  and 
walking  erect  on  its  hind  legs,  would  perhaps  be  comparable  to  the 
panic  possessing  the  shallow  brain  of  the  poor  speckled  thing  when 
that  huge  woman  came  striding  over  it. 

First  I  laughed,  and  then,  seeing  that  she  was  about  to  throw 
herself  for  protection  like  a  mountain  of  flesh  upon  me,  I  turned 
and  ran  after  the  snake  —  for  I  had  observed  that  it  belonged  to  a 
harmless  species,  one  of  the  innocuous  Coronella  genus  —  and  I  was 
anxious  to  annoy  the  woman.  I  captured  it  in  a  moment;  then, 
with  the  poor  frightened  creature  struggling  in  my  hand  and  wind- 
ing itself  about  my  wrist,  I  walked  back  to  her. 

"Did  you  ever  see  such  lovely  colours?"  I  cried.  "Look  at  the 
delicate  primrose  yellow  on  its  neck,  deepening  into  vivid  crimson 
on  the  belly.  Talk  of  flowers  and  butterflies  !  And  its  eyes  are  bright 
as  two  small  diamonds  —  look  closely  at  them,  senora,  for  they  are 
well  worth  your  admiration." 

But  she  only  turned  and  fled  away  screaming  at  my  approach, 
and  at  last,  finding  that  I  would  not  obey  her  and  drop  the  terrible 
reptile,  she  left  me  in  a  towering  rage  and  went  back  to  the  house 
by  herself. 

After  that  I  continued  my  walk  in  peace  amongst  the  flowers; 
but  my  little  speckled  captive  had  served  me  so  well  that  I  would 
not  release  it.  It  occurred  to  me  that  if  I  kept  it  on  my  person  it 
might  serve  as  a  sort  of  talisman  to  protect  me  from  the  disagreeable 
attentions  of  the  senora.  Finding  that  it  was  a  very  sly  little  snakey, 

81 


CJje  purple  Hand 

and,  like  Marcos  Marco  in  captivity,  full  of  subtle  deceit,  I  put  it 
into  my  hat,  which,  when  firmly  pressed  on  to  my  head,  left  no 
opening  for  the  little  arrowy  head  to  insinuate  itself  through.  After 
spending  two  or  three  hours  botanising  in  the  Canada,  I  returned  to 
the  house.  I  was  in  the  kitchen  refreshing  myself  with  a  bitter 
mate,  when  my  hostess  came  in  beaming  with  smiles,  for  she  had, 
I  suppose,  forgiven  me  by  this  time.  I  politely  rose  and  removed  my 
hat.  Unfortunately  I  had  forgotten  the  snake,  when  out  it  dropped 
on  the  floor;  then  followed  screams,  confusion  and  scuttling  out  of 
the  kitchen  by  madame,  children,  and  servants.  After  that  I  was 
compelled  to  carry  the  snake  out  and  give  it  back  its  liberty,  which 
no  doubt  tasted  very  sweet  to  it  after  its  close  confinement.  On  my 
return  to  the  house,  one  of  the  servants  informed  me  that  the 
sefiora  was  too  much  offended  to  sit  in  the  same  room  with  me 
again,  so  that  I  was  obliged  to  have  my  breakfast  alone;  and  for  the 
remainder  of  the  time  during  which  I  was  a  prisoner  I  was  avoided 
by  everyone  (except  Brass  Buttons,  who  appeared  indifferent  to 
everything  on  earth),  as  if  I  had  been  a  leper  or  a  dangerous  luna- 
tic. They  thought,  perhaps,  that  I  still  had  other  reptiles  concealed 
about  my  person. 

Of  course,  one  always  expects  to  find  a  cruel,  unreasoning  preju- 
dice against  snakes  amongst  ignorant  people,  but  I  never  knew  be- 
fore to  what  ridiculous  lengths  it  will  carry  them.  The  prejudice 
makes  me  angry,  but  on  this  occasion  it  had  a  use,  for  it  enabled  me 
to  pass  the  day  unmolested. 

In  the  evening  the  Juez  returned,  and  I  soon  heard  him  loud  in 
a  stormy  altercation  with  his  wife.  Perhaps  she  wanted  him  to  have 
me  decapitated.  How  it  ended  I  cannot  say;  but  when  I  saw  him 
his  manner  towards  me  was  freezing,  and  he  retired  without  giving 
me  an  opportunity  of  speaking  to  him. 

Next  morning  I  got  up  resolved  not  to  be  put  off  any  longer. 
Something  would  have  to  be  done,  or  I  would  know  the  reason  why. 
On  stepping  out  I  was  very  much  surprised  to  see  my  horse  standing 
saddled  at  the  gate.  I  went  into  the  kitchen  and  asked  Brass  Buttons, 
the  only  person  up,  what  it  meant. 

82 


Cfte  purple  Land 

"Who  knows?"  he  returned,  giving  me  a  mate.  "Perhaps  the 
Juez  desires  you  to  leave  the  house  before  he  is  up." 

"What  did  he  say?"  I  demanded. 

"Say?  Nothing — what  should  he  say?"  v 

"But  you  saddled  the  horse,  I  suppose?" 

"Of  course.  Who  else  would  do  it?" 

"Were  you  told  to  do  so  by  the  Juez?" 

"Told?  Why  should  he  tell  me?" 

"How,  then,  am  I  to  know  that  he  wishes  me  to  leave  his  beauti- 
ful house?"  I  asked,  getting  angry. 

"The  question!"  he  returned,  shrugging  his  shoulders.  "How 
do  you  know  when  it  is  going  to  rain?" 

Finding  there  was  nothing  more  to  be  got  out  of  the  fellow,  I 
finishing  taking  mate,  lit  a  cigar,  and  left  the  house.  It  was  a  lovely 
morning,  without  a  cloud,  and  the  heavy  dew  sparkled  on  the  grass 
like  drops  of  rain.  What  a  pleasant  thing  it  was  to  be  able  to  ride 
forth  again  free  to  go  where  I  liked! 

And  so  ends  my  snake-story,  which  is  perhaps  not  very  interest- 
ing; but  it  is  true,  and  therefore  has  one  advantage  over  all  other 
snake-stories  told  by  travellers. 


Cfte  purple  JLanD 


B 


CHAPTER  XII 

EFORE  leaving  the  magistrate's  estancia  I  had  made  up 
my  mind  to  return  by  the  shortest  route,  and  as  quickly  as 
possible,  to  Montevideo;  and  that  morning,  mounted  on  a 
well-rested  horse,  I  covered  a  great  deal  of  ground.  By  twelve 
o'clock,  when  I  stopped  to  rest  my  horse  and  get  some  refreshment 
at  a  wayside  pulperia,  I  had  got  over  about  eight  leagues.  This  was 
travelling  at  an  imprudent  pace,  of  course;  but  in  the  Banda  Orien- 
tal it  is  so  easy  to  pick  up  a  fresh  horse  that  one  becomes  somewhat 
reckless.  My  journey  that  morning  had  taken  me  over  the  eastern 
portion  of  the  Durazno  district,  and  I  was  everywhere  charmed  with 
the  beauty  of  the  country,  though  it  was  still  very  dry,  the  grass  on 
the  higher  lands  being  burnt  to  various  shades  of  yellow  and  brown. 
Now,  however,  the  summer  heats  were  over,  for  the  time  was  near 
the  end  of  February;  the  temperature,  without  being  oppressive, 
was  deliciously  warm,  so  that  travelling  on  horseback  was  delight- 
ful. I  might  fill  dozens  of  pages  with  descriptions  of  pretty  bits  of 
country  I  passed  that  day,  but  must  plead  guilty  of  an  unconquer- 
able aversion  to  this  kind  of  writing.  After  this  candid  confession, 
I  hope  the  reader  will  not  quarrel  with  me  for  the  omission;  be- 
sides, anyone  who  cares  for  these  things,  and  knows  how  evanescent 
are  the  impressions  left  by  word  pictures  on  the  mind,  can  sail  the 
seas  and  gallop  round  the  world  to  see  them  all  for  himself.  It  is 
not,  however,  every  wanderer  from  England — I  blush  while  saying 
it — who  can  make  himself  familiar  with  the  home  habits,  the  ways 
of  thought  and  speech,  of  a  distant  people.  Bid  me  discourse  of 
lowly  valley,  lofty  height,  of  barren  waste,  shady  wood,  or  cooling 
stream  where  I  have  drunk  and  been  refreshed ;  but  all  these  places, 
pleasant  or  dreary,  must  be  in  the  kingdom  called  the  heart. 

After  getting  some  information  about  the  country  I  had  to 


Cfte  purple  JLanD 

traverse  from  the  pulpero,  who  told  me  that  I  would  probably  reach 
the  River  Yi  before  evening,  I  resumed  my  journey.  About  four 
o'clock  in  the  afternoon  I  came  to  an  extensive  wood  of  thorn-trees, 
of  which  the  pulpero  had  spoken,  and,  in  accordance  with  his  in- 
structions, I  skirted  it  on  the  eastern  side.  The  trees  were  not  large, 
but  there  was  an  engaging  wildness  about  this  forest,  full  of  the 
musical  chatter  of  birds,  which  tempted  me  to  alight  from  my  horse 
and  rest  for  an  hour  in  the  shade.  Taking  the  bit  from  his  mouth 
to  let  him  feed,  I  threw  myself  down  on  the  dry  grass  under  a 
clump  of  shady  thorns,  and  for  half  an  hour  watched  the  sparkling 
sunlight  falling  through  the  foliage  overhead,  and  listened  to  the 
feathered  people  that  came  about  me,  loudly  chirping,  apparently 
curious  to  know  what  object  had  brought  me  to  their  haunts.  Then 
I  began  to  think  of  all  the  people  I  had  recently  mixed  with:  the 
angry  magistrate  and  his  fat  wife — horrid  woman! — and  Marcos 
Marco,  that  shabby  rascal,  rose  up  before  me  to  pass  quickly  away, 
and  once  more  I  was  face  to  face  with  that  lovely  mystery  Margarita. 
In  imagination  I  put  forth  my  hands  to  take  hers,  and  drew  her 
towards  me  so  as  to  look  more  closely  into  her  eyes,  vainly  question- 
ing them  as  to  their  pure  sapphire  hue.  Then  I  imagined  or  dreamt 
that  with  trembling  fingers  I  unbraided  her  hair  to  let  it  fall  like 
a  splendid  golden  mantle  over  her  mean  dress,  and  asked  her  how 
she  came  to  possess  that  garment  of  glory.  The  sweet,  grave,  child 
lips  smiled,  but  returned  no  answer.  Then  a  shadowy  face  seemed 
to  shape  itself  dimly  against  the  green  curtain  of  foliage,  and,  look- 
ing over  the  fair  girl's  shoulder,  gaze  sadly  into  my  eyes.  It  was  the 
face  of  Paquita.  Ah,  sweet  wife,  never  let  the  green-eyed  monster 
trouble  the  peace  of  your  heart!  Know  that  the  practical  Saxon 
mind  of  your  husband  is  puzzling  itself  over  a  purely  scientific 
problem,  that  this  surpassingly  fair  child  interests  me  only  because 
her  fairness  seems  to  upset  all  physiological  laws.  I  was,  in  fact, 
just  sinking  to  sleep  at  this  moment  when  the  shrill  note  of  a  trum- 
pet blown  close  by  and  followed  by  loud  shouts  from  several  voices 
made  me  spring  instantly  to  my  feet.  A  storm  of  answering  shouts 
came  from  another  quarter  of  the  wood,  then  followed  profound 
silence.  Presently  the  trumpet  sounded  again,  making  me  feel  very 

85 


Cfte  Purple  ILanD 

much  alarmed.  My  first  impulse  was  to  spring  on  to  my  horse  and 
ride  away  for  dear  life;  but,  on  second  thoughts,  I  concluded  that  it 
would  be  safer  to  remain  concealed  amongst  the  trees,  as  by  leaving 
them  I  should  only  reveal  myself  to  the  robbers  or  rebels,  or  what- 
ever they  were.  I  bridled  my  horse  so  as  to  be  ready  to  run,  then 
drew  him  into  a  close  thicket  of  dark-foliaged  bushes  and  fastened 
him  there.  The  silence  that  had  fallen  on  the  wood  continued,  and 
at  last,  unable  to  bear  the  suspense  longer,  I  began  to  make  my  way 
cautiously,  revolver  in  hand,  towards  the  point  the  sounds  had  pro- 
ceeded from.  Stealing  softly  through  the  bushes  and  trees  where  they 
grew  near  together,  I  came  at  length  in  sight  of  an  open  piece  of 
ground,  about  two  or  three  hundred  yards  wide,  and  overgrown 
with  grass.  Near  its  border  on  one  side  I  was  amazed  to  see  a  group 
of  about  a  dozen  boys,  their  ages  ranging  from  about  ten  to  fifteen, 
all  standing  perfectly  motionless.  One  of  them  held  a  trumpet  in 
his  hand,  and  they  all  wore  red  handkerchiefs  or  rags  tied  round 
their  heads.  Suddenly,  while  I  crouched  amongst  the  leafage  watch- 
ing them,  a  shrill  note  sounded  from  the  opposite  side  of  the  open 
space,  and  another  troop  of  boys  wearing  white  on  their  heads  burst 
from  the  trees  and  advanced  with  loud  shouts  of  vivas  and  mueras 
towards  the  middle  of  the  ground.  Again  the  red  heads  sounded 
their  trumpet,  and  went  out  boldly  to  meet  the  new-comers.  As 
the  two  bands  approached  each  other,  each  led  by  a  big  boy,  who 
turned  at  intervals  and  with  many  wild  gestures  addressed  his  fol- 
lowers, apparently  to  encourage  them,  I  was  amazed  to  see  them  all 
suddenly  draw  out  long  knives,  such  as  the  native  horsemen  usually 
wear,  and  rush  furiously  together.  In  a  moment  they  were  mingled 
together  in  a  desperate  fight,  uttering  the  most  horrible  yells,  their 
long  weapons  glittering  in  the  sunshine  as  they  brandished  them 
about.  With  such  fury  did  they  fight  that  in  a  few  moments  all 
the  combatants  lay  stretched  out  on  the  grass,  excepting  three  boys 
wearing  the  red  badges.  One  of  these  bloodthirsty  young  miscreants 
then  snatched  up  the  trumpet  and  blew  a  victorious  blast,  while  the 
other  two  shrieked  an  accompaniment  of  vivas  and  mueras.  While 
they  were  thus  occupied  one  of  the  white-headed  boys  struggled 
to  his  feet,  and,  snatching  up  a  knife,  charged  the  three  reds  with 

86 


Cj)e  Purple  LanD 

desperate  courage.  Had  I  not  been  perfectly  paralysed  with  amaze- 
ment at  what  I  had  witnessed,  I  should  then  have  rushed  out  to  aid 
this  boy  in  his  forlorn  attempt;  but  in  an  instant  his  three  foes  were 
on  him  and  dragged  him  down  to  the  ground.  Two  of  them  then 
held  him  fast  by  the  legs  and  arms,  the  other  raised  his  long  knife, 
and  was  just  about  to  plunge  it  in  the  struggling  captive's  breast, 
when,  uttering  a  loud  yell,  I  sprang  up  and  rushed  at  them.  In- 
stantly they  started  up  and  fled  screaming  towards  the  trees  in  the 
greatest  terror;  and  then,  most  wonderful  thing  of  all,  the  dead  boys 
all  came  to  life,  and,  springing  to  their  feet,  fled  from  me  after 
the  others.  This  brought  me  to  a  stand,  when,  seeing  that  one  of  the 
boys  limped  painfully  after  his  companions,  hopping  on  one  leg, 
I  made  a  sudden  dash  and  captured  him  before  he  could  reach  the 
shelter  of  the  trees. 

"Oh,  senor,  do  not  kill  me!"  he  pleaded,  bursting  into  tears. 

"I  have  no  wish  to  kill  you,  you  unspeakable  young  miscreant, 
but  I  think  I  ought  to  thrash  you,"  I  answered,  for,  though  greatly 
relieved  at  the  turn  things  had  taken,  I  was  excessively  annoyed  at 
having  experienced  all  those  sensations  of  blood-curdling  horror  for 
nothing. 

"We  were  only  playing  at  Whites  and  Reds,"  he  pleaded. 

I  then  made  him  sit  down  and  tell  me  all  about  this  singular 
game. 

None  of  the  boys  lived  very  near,  he  said ;  some  of  them  came  a 
distance  of  several  leagues,  and  they  had  selected  this  locality  for 
their  sports  on  account  of  its  seclusion,  for  they  did  not  like  to  be 
found  out.  Their  game  was  a  mimic  war  of  Whites  and  Reds, 
manoeuvres,  surprises,  skirmishes,  throat-cutting,  and  all. 

I  pitied  the  young  patriot  at  the  last,  for  he  had  sprained  his 
ankle  badly  and  could  scarcely  walk,  and  so  assisted  him  to  the  spot 
where  his  horse  was  hidden ;  then,  having  helped  him  to  mount  and 
given  him  a  cigarette,  for  which  he  had  the  impudence  to  ask  me, 
I  laughingly  bade  him  good-bye.  I  went  back  to  look  for  my  own 
horse  after  that,  beginning  to  feel  very  much  amused  at  the  whole 
thing;  but,  alas!  my  steed  was  gone.  The  young  scoundrels  had 
stolen  him,  to  revenge  themselves  on  me,  I  suppose,  for  disturbing 


C6e  purple  HattD 

them;  and  to  relieve  me  from  all  doubt  in  the  matter  they  left  two 
bits  of  rag,  one  white  and  the  other  red,  attached  to  the  branch  I 
had  fastened  the  bridle  to.  For  some  time  I  wandered  about  the 
wood,  and  even  shouted  aloud  in  the  wild  hope  that  the  young 
fiends  were  not  going  to  carry  things  so  far  as  to  leave  me  without 
a  horse  in  that  solitary  place.  Nothing  could  I  see  or  hear  of  them, 
however,  and  as  it  was  getting  late  and  I  was  becoming  desperately 
hungry  and  thirsty,  I  resolved  to  go  in  search  of  some  habitation. 

On  emerging  from  the  forest  I  found  the  adjacent  plain  covered 
with  cattle  quietly  grazing.  Any  attempt  to  pass  through  the  herd 
would  have  been  almost  certain  death,  as  these  more  than  half- 
wild  beasts  will  always  take  revenge  on  their  master  man  when  they 
catch  him  dismounted  in  the  open.  As  they  were  coming  up  from 
the  direction  of  the  river,  and  were  slowly  grazing  past  the  wood, 
I  resolved  to  wait  for  them  to  pass  on  before  leaving  my  conceal- 
ment. I  sat  down  and  tried  to  be  patient,  but  the  brutes  were  in  no 
hurry,  and  went  on  skirting  the  wood  at  a  snail's  pace.  It  was  about 
six  o'clock  before  the  last  stragglers  had  left,  and  then  I  ventured 
out  from  my  hiding-place,  hungry  as  a  wolf  and  afraid  of  being 
overtaken  by  night  before  finding  any  human  habitation.  I  had 
left  the  trees  half  a  mile  behind  me,  and  was  walking  hurriedly 
along  towards  the  valley  of  the  Yi,  when,  passing  over  a  hillock,  I 
suddenly  found  myself  in  sight  of  a  bull  resting  on  the  grass  and 
quietly  chewing  his  cud.  Unfortunately  the  brute  saw  me  at  the 
same  moment  and  immediately  stood  up.  He  was,  I  think,  about 
three  or  four  years  old,  and  a  bull  of  that  age  is  even  more  dan- 
gerous than  an  older  one;  for  he  is  quite  as  truculent  as  the  other 
and  far  more  active.  There  was  no  refuge  of  any  kind  near,  and  I 
knew  very  well  that  to  attempt  to  escape  by  running  would  only 
increase  my  danger,  so  after  gazing  at  him  for  a  few  moments  I 
assumed  an  easy,  unconcerned  manner  and  walked  on;  but  he  was 
not  going  to  be  taken  in  that  way,  and  began  to  follow  me.  Then 
for  the  first,  and  I  devoutly  hope  for  the  last,  time  in  my  life  I 
was  compelled  to  resort  to  the  gaucho  plan,  and,  casting  myself  face 
downwards  on  the  earth,  lay  there  simulating  death.  It  is  a  misera- 
ble, dangerous  expedient,  but,  in  the  circumstances  I  found  myself, 


Cfte  Ipurple  LanO 


the  only  one  offering  a  chance  of  escape  from  a  very  terrible  death. 
In  a  few  moments  I  heard  his  heavy  tramp,  then  felt  him  sniffing 
me  all  over.  After  that  he  tried  unsuccessfully  to  roll  me  over,  in 
order  to  study  my  face,  I  suppose.  It  was  horrible  to  endure  the 
prods  he  gave  me  and  lie  still,  but  after  a  while  he  grew  quieter,  and 
contented  himself  by  simply  keeping  guard  over  me;  occasionally 
smelling  at  my  head,  then  turning  round  to  smell  at  my  heels. 
Probably  his  theory  was,  if  he  had  one,  that  I  had  fainted  with  fear 
at  the  sight  of  him  and  would  recover  presently,  but  he  was  not 
quite  sure  at  which  end  of  me  returning  life  would  first  show  itself. 
About  once  in  every  five  or  six  minutes  he  seemed  to  get  impatient, 
and  then  he  would  paw  me  with  his  heavy  hoof,  uttering  a  low? 
hoarse  moaning,  spattering  me  with  froth  from  his  mouth;  but  as 
he  showed  no  disposition  to  leave,  I  at  last  resolved  to  try  a  very  bold 
experiment,  for  my  position  was  becoming  unendurable.  I  waited 
till  the  brute's  head  was  turned  from  me,  then  worked  my  hand 
cautiously  down  to  my  revolver;  but  before  I  had  quite  drawn  it, 
he  noticed  the  movement  and  wheeled  swiftly  round,  kicking  my 
legs  as  he  did  so.  Just  as  he  brought  his  head  round  close  to  mine, 
I  discharged  the  weapon  in  his  face,  and  the  sudden  explosion  so 
terrified  him  that  he  turned  tail  and  fled,  never  pausing  in  his 
lumbering  gallop  till  he  was  out  of  sight.  It  was  a  glorious  victory  ; 
and  though  I  could  scarcely  stand  on  my  legs  at  first,  so  stiff  and 
bruised  did  I  feel  all  over,  I  laughed  with  joy,  and  even  sent  another 
bullet  whizzing  after  the  retreating  monster,  accompanying  the  dis- 
charge with  a  wild  yell  of  triumph. 

After  that  I  proceeded  without  further  interruption  on  my  walk, 
and,  had  I  not  felt  so  ravenously  hungry  and  so  sore  where  the  bull 
had  trod  on  me  or  prodded  me  with  his  horns,  the  walk  would  have 
been  very  enjoyable,  for  I  was  now  approaching  the  Yi.  The  ground 
grew  moist  and  green,  and  flowers  abounded,  many  of  them  new 
to  me,  and  so  lovely  and  fragrant  that  in  my  admiration  for  them 
I  almost  forgot  my  pain.  The  sun  went  down,  but  no  house  ap- 
peared in  sight.  Over  the  western  heavens  flamed  the  brilliant  hues 
of  the  afterglow,  and  from  the  long  grass  came  the  sad,  monotonous 
trill  of  some  night  insect.  Troops  of  hooded  gulls  flew  by  me  on 


Cfte  purple  JLand 

their  way  from  their  feeding  grounds  to  the  water,  uttering  their 
long,  hoarse,  laughter-like  cries.  How  buoyant  and  happy  they 
seemed,  flying  with  their  stomachs  full  to  their  rest;  while  I,  dis- 
mounted and  supperless,  dragged  painfully  on  like  a  gull  that  had 
been  left  behind  with  a  broken  wing.  Presently,  through  the  purple 
and  saffron-hued  vapours  in  the  western  sky,  the  evening  star  ap- 
peared, large  and  luminous,  the  herald  of  swift-coming  darkness; 
and  then — weary,  bruised,  hungry,  baffled,  and  despondent — I  sat 
down  to  meditate  on  my  forlorn  position. 


90 


Cfte  purple  JLanB 


0*^*s0r*<0r*<0r*0*<0V^<s0r*j0V<0Ks0V^^ 


CHAPTER  XIII 

I  SAT  there  till  it  was  very  dark,  and  the  longer  I  sat  the  colder 
and  stiffer  I  grew,  yet  I  felt  no  disposition  to  walk  farther.  At 
length  a  large  owl,  flapping  down  close  to  my  head,  gave  utter- 
ance to  a  long  hiss,  followed  by  a  sharp,  clicking  sound,  ending 
with  a  sudden  loud,  laugh-like  cry.  The  nearness  of  it  startled  me, 
and,  looking  up,  I  saw  a  twinkling  yellow  light  gleam  for  a  moment 
across  the  wide,  black  plain,  then  disappear.  A  few  fireflies  were 
flitting  about  the  grass,  but  I  felt  sure  the  gleam  just  witnessed  pro- 
ceeded from  a  fire ;  and  after  vainly  trying  to  catch  sight  of  it  again 
from  my  seat  on  the  ground,  I  rose  and  walked  on,  keeping  before 
me  a  particular  star  shining  directly  over  the  spot  where  that  tran- 
sient glimmer  had  appeared.  Presently,  to  my  great  joy,  I  spied  it 
again  in  the  same  place,  and  felt  convinced  that  it  was  the  gleam 
of  firelight  shining  from  the  open  door  or  window  of  some  rancho 
or  estancia  house.  With  renewed  hope  and  energy  I  hastened  on, 
the  light  increasing  in  brightness  as  I  progressed ;  and,  after  half  an 
hour's  brisk  walking,  I  found  myself  approaching  a  human  dwell- 
ing of  some  kind.  I  could  make  out  a  dark  mass  of  trees  and  bushes, 
a  long,  low  house,  and,  nearer  to  me,  a  corral,  or  cattle-pen,  of  tall, 
upright  posts.  Now,  however,  when  a  refuge  seemed  so  close,  the 
fear  of  the  terrible,  savage  dogs  kept  on  most  of  these  cattle-breeding 
establishments  made  me  hesitate.  Unless  I  wished  to  run  the  risk 
of  being  shot,  it  was  necessary  to  shout  loudly  to  make  my  approach 
known,  yet  by  shouting  I  would  inevitably  bring  a  pack  of  huge, 
frantic  dogs  upon  me;  and  the  horns  of  the  angry  bull  I  had  en- 
countered were  less  terrible  to  contemplate  than  the  fangs  of  these 
powerful,  truculent  brutes.  I  sat  down  on  the  ground  to  consider  the 
position,  and  presently  heard  the  clatter  of  approaching  hoofs.  Im- 
mediately afterwards  three  men  rode  past  me,  but  did  not  see  me, 


Cfte  Purple  JLanD 

for  I  was  crouching  down  behind  some  scrubby  bushes.  When  the 
horsemen  approached  the  house  the  dogs  rushed  forth  to  assail 
them,  and  their  loud,  fierce  barking,  and  the  wild  shouts  of  some 
person  from  the  house  calling  them  off,  were  enough  to  make  a 
dismounted  man  nervous.  However,  now  was  my  only  chance,  and, 
starting  up,  I  hurried  on  towards  the  noise.  As  I  passed  the  corral 
the  brutes  became  aware  of  my  approach,  and  instantly  turned  their 
attention  on  me.  I  wildly  shouted.  " Avc  Maria!'  then,  revolver  in 
hand,  stood  awaiting  the  onset;  but  when  they  were  near  enough  for 
me  to  see  that  the  pack  was  composed  of  eight  or  ten  huge  yellow 
mastiff-like  brutes,  my  courage  failed,  and  I  fled  to  the  corral, 
where,  with  an  agility  surpassing  that  of  a  wild  cat,  so  great  was  my 
terror,  I  climbed  up  a  post  and  placed  myself  beyond  their  reach. 
With  the  dogs  furiously  barking  under  me,  I  renewed  my  shouts  of 
" Ave  Maria" — the  proper  thing  to  do  when  you  approach  a  strange 
house  in  these  pious  latitudes.  After  some  time  the  men  approached 
— four  of  them — and  asked  me  who  I  was  and  what  I  did  there. 
I  gave  an  account  of  myself,  then  asked  whether  it  would  be  safe 
for  me  to  descend.  The  master  of  the  house  took  the  hint,  and  drove 
his  faithful  protectors  off,  after  which  I  came  down  from  my  un- 
comfortable perch. 

He  was  a  tall,  well-made,  but  rather  fierce-looking  gaucho, 
with  keen  black  eyes,  and  a  heavy  black  beard.  He  seemed  sus- 
picious of  me — a  very  unusual  thing  in  a  native's  house,  and  asked 
me  a  great  many  searching  questions;  and  finally,  still  with  some 
reluctance  in  his  manner,  he  invited  me  into  the  kitchen.  There  I 
found  a  big  fire  blazing  merrily  on  the  raised  clay  hearth  in  the 
centre  of  the  large  room,  and  seated  near  it  an  old  grey-haired 
woman,  a  middle-aged,  tall,  dark-skinned  dame  in  a  purple  dress — 
my  host's  wife;  a  pale,  pretty  young  woman,  about  sixteen  years 
old,  and  a  little  girl.  When  I  sat  down  my  host  began  once  more 
questioning  me;  but  he  apologised  for  doing  so,  saying  that  my 
arrival  on  foot  seemed  a  very  extraordinary  circumstance.  I  told 
them  how  I  had  lost  my  horse,  saddle,  and  poncho  in  the  wood, 
and  then  related  my  encounter  with  the  bull.  They  listened  to  it 
all  with  very  grave  faces,  but  I  am  sure  it  was  as  good  as  a  comedy 

92 


Cfte  purple  ILanD 

to  them.  Don  Sinforiano  Alday — the  owner  of  the  place,  and  my 
questioner — made  me  take  off  my  coat  to  exhibit  the  bruises  the 
bull's  hoofs  had  inflicted  on  my  arms  and  shoulders.  He  was 
anxious,  even  after  that,  to  know  something  more  about  me,  and 
so  to  satisfy  him  I  gave  him  a  brief  account  of  some  of  my  ad- 
ventures in  the  country,  down  to  my  arrest  with  Marcos  Marco, 
and  how  that  plausible  gentleman  had  made  his  escape  from  the 
magistrate's  house.  That  made  them  all  laugh,  and  the  three  men  I 
had  seen  arrive,  and  who  appeared  to  be  casual  visitors,  became  very 
friendly,  frequently  passing  me  the  rum-bottle  with  which  they 
were  provided. 

After  sipping  mate  and  rum  for  half  an  hour  we  settled  down 
to  discuss  a  plentiful  supper  of  roast  and  boiled  beef  and  mutton, 
with  great  basins  of  well-seasoned  broth  to  wash  it  down.  I  con- 
sumed an  amazing  quantity  of  meat,  as  much,  in  fact,  as  any 
gaucho  there;  and  to  eat  as  much  as  one  of  these  men  at  a  sitting 
is  a  feat  for  an  Englishman  to  boast  about.  Supper  done,  I  lit  a 
cigar  and  leant  back  against  the  wall,  enjoying  many  delightful 
sensations  all  together — warmth,  rest,  and  hunger  satisfied,  and  the 
subtle  fragrance  of  that  friend  and  comforter,  divine  tobacco.  On 
the  farther  side  of  the  room  my  host  was  meanwhile  talking  to  the 
other  men  in  low  tones.  Occasional  glances  in  my  direction  seemed 
to  show  that  they  still  harboured  some  suspicion  of  me,  or  that  they 
had  some  grave  matters  to  converse  about  unsuitable  for  a  stranger 
to  hear. 

At  length  Alday  rose  and  addressed  me.  "Senor,  if  you  are  ready 
to  rest  I  will  now  conduct  you  to  another  room,  where  you  can 
have  some  rugs  and  ponchos  to  make  a  bed  with." 

"If  my  presence  here  is  not  inconvenient,"  I  returned,  "I  would 
rather  remain  and  smoke  by  the  fire." 

"You  see,  senor,"  he  said,  "I  have  arranged  to  meet  some  neigh- 
bours and  friends,  who  are  coming  here  to  discuss  matters  of  im- 
portance with  me.  I  am  even  now  expecting  their  arrival,  and  the 
presence  of  a  stranger  would  scarcely  allow  us  to  talk  freely  over 
our  affairs." 

93 


Cfie  Ipurple  JLanD 


"Since  you  wish  it,  I  will  go  to  any  part  of  the  house  you  may 
chink  proper  to  put  me  in,"  I  returned. 

I  rose,  not  very  cheerfully,  I  must  say,  from  my  comfortable 
seat  before  the  fire,  to  follow  him  out,  when  the  tramp  of  galloping 
horses  came  to  our  ears. 

"Follow  me  this  way  —  quick,"  exclaimed  my  impatient  con- 
ductor; but  just  as  I  reached  the  door  about  a  dozen  mounted  men 
dashed  up  close  to  us  and  burst  forth  in  a  perfect  storm  of  yells. 
Instantly  all  those  who  were  in  the  kitchen  sprang  to  their  feet 
uttering  loud  exclamations  and  looking  greatly  excited.  Then  came 
from  the  mounted  men  another  wild  outburst  as  they  all  yelled 
together,  "Viva  el  General  Santa  Coloma  —  viv  —  a." 

The  other  three  men  then  rushed  from  the  kitchen,  and  in  ex- 
cited tones  began  to  ask  if  anything  fresh  had  happened.  Meanwhile 
I  was  left  standing  at  the  door  by  myself.  The  women  appeared 
almost  as  excited  as  the  men,  except  the  girl,  who  had  glanced  at 
me  with  shy  compassion  in  her  large,  dark  eyes  when  I  had  been 
roused  from  my  seat  by  the  fire.  Taking  advantage  of  the  general 
excitement,  I  now  repaid  that  kindly  look  with  one  of  admiration. 
She  was  a  quiet,  bashful  girl,  her  pale  face  crowned  with  a  profusion 
of  black  hair;  and  while  she  stood  there  waiting,  apparently  uncon- 
cerned by  the  hubbub  outside,  she  looked  strangely  pretty,  her  home- 
made cotton  gown,  of  limp  and  scanty  material,  clinging  closely 
to  her  limbs  so  as  to  display  her  slender,  graceful  form  to  the  best 
advantage.  Presently,  seeing  me  looking  at  her,  she  came  near, 
and,  touching  my  arm  in  passing,  told  me  in  a  whisper  to  go  back 
to  my  seat  by  the  fire.  I  gladly  obeyed  her,  for  my  curiosity  was  now 
thoroughly  aroused,  and  I  wished  to  know  the  meaning  of  this 
outcry  which  had  thrown  these  phlegmatic  gauchos  into  such  a 
frenzied  state  of  excitement.  It  looked  rather  like  a  political  row- 
but  of  General  Santa  Coloma  I  had  never  heard,  and  it  seemed 
curious  that  a  name  so  seldom  mentioned  should  be  the  rallying 
cry  of  revolutionists. 

In  a  few  minutes  the  men  all  streamed  back  into  the  kitchen. 
Then  the  master  of  the  house,  Alday,  his  face  on  fire  with  emotion, 
thrust  himself  into  the  midst  of  the  crowd. 

94 


Cfte  Purple  JUmD 

"Boys,  are  you  mad!"  he  cried.  "Do  you  not  see  a  stranger  here? 
What  is  the  meaning  of  all  this  outcry  if  nothing  new  has  hap- 
pened?" 

A  roar  of  laughter  from  the  new-comers  greeted  this  outburst, 
after  which  they  raised  another  yell  of  "Viva  Santa  Colomal" 

Alday  became  furious.  "Speak,  madmen!"  he  shouted;  "tell  me, 
in  God's  name,  what  has  happened— or  do  you  wish  to  ruin  every- 
thing with  your  imprudence?" 

"Listen,  Alday,"  replied  one  of  the  men,  "and  know  how  little 
we  need  fear  the  presence  of  a  stranger.  Santa  Coloma,  the  hope  of 
Uruguay,  the  saviour  of  his  country,  who  will  shortly  deliver  us 
out  of  the  power  of  Colorado  assassins  and  pirates — Santa  Coloma 
has  come!  He  is  here  in  our  midst;  he  has  seized  on  El  Molino  del 
Yi,  and  has  raised  the  standard  of  revolt  against  the  infamous 
government  of  Montevideo!  Viva  Santa  Colomal" 

Alday  flung  his  hat  off,  and,  falling  on  his  knees,  remained  for 
some  moments  in  silent  prayer,  his  hands  clasped  before  him.  The 
others  all  snatched  off  their  hats  and  stood  silent,  grouped  about 
him.  Then  he  stood  up,  and  all  together  joined  in  a  viva,  which 
far  surpassed  in  its  deafening  power  their  previous  performances. 

My  host  now  appeared  to  be  almost  beside  himself  with  excite- 
ment. 

"What,"  he  cried,  "my  General  come!  Do  you  tell  me  that  Santa 
Coloma  has  come  ?  Oh,  friends,  the  great  God  has  remembered  our 
suffering  country  at  last!  He  has  grown  weary  of  looking  on  man's 
injustice,  the  persecutions,  the  bloodshed,  the  cruelties  that  have 
almost  driven  us  mad.  I  cannot  realise  it!  Let  me  go  to  my  General, 
that  these  eyes  that  have  watched  for  his  coming  may  see  him  and 
rejoice.  I  cannot  wait  for  daylight — this  very  night  must  I  ride  to 
El  Molino,  that  I  may  see  him  and  touch  him  with  my  hands,  and 
know  that  it  is  not  a  dream." 

His  words  were  welcomed  with  a  shout  of  applause,  and  the 
other  men  all  immediately  announced  their  intention  to  accompany 
him  to  El  Molino,  a  small  town  on  the  Yi  some  leagues  distant. 

Some  of  the  men  now  went  out  to  catch  fresh  horses,  while 
Alday  busied  himself  in  bringing  out  a  store  of  old  broadswords  and 

95 


Cfte  purple  JLanD 

carbines  from  their  concealment  in  some  other  part  of  the  house. 
The  men,  talking  excitedly  together,  occupied  themselves  in  scour- 
ing and  sharpening  the  rusty  weapons,  while  the  women  cooked  a 
fresh  supply  of  meat  for  the  last  comers;  and  in  the  meantime  I 
was  permitted  to  remain  unnoticed  by  the  fire,  smoking  peacefully. 


Cfte  purple  JLanD 


CHAPTER  XIV 

girl  I  have  mentioned,  whose  name  was  Monica,  and 
the  child,  called  Anita,  were  the  only  persons  there  besides 
myself  who  were  not  carried  away  by  the  warlike  enthusi- 
asm of  the  moment.  Monica,  silent,  pale,  almost  apathetic,  was  occu- 
pied serving  mate  to  the  numerous  guests;  while  the  child,  when 
the  shouting  and  excitement  was  at  its  height,  appeared  greatly 
terrified,  and  clung  to  Alday's  wife,  trembling  and  crying  piteously. 
No  notice  was  taken  of  the  poor  little  thing,  and  at  length  she  crept 
away  into  a  corner  to  conceal  herself  behind  a  faggot  of  wood.  Her 
hiding-place  was  close  to  my  seat,  and  after  a  little  coaxing  I  induced 
her  to  leave  it  and  come  to  me.  She  was  a  most  forlorn  little  thing, 
with  a  white,  thin  face  and  large,  dark,  pathetic  eyes.  Her  mean 
little  cotton  frock  only  reached  to  her  knees,  and  her  little  legs 
and  feet  were  bare.  Her  age  was  seven  or  eight ;  she  was  an  orphan, 
and  Alday's  wife,  having  no  children  of  her  own,  was  bringing  her 
up,  or,  rather,  permitting  her  to  grow  up  under  her  roof.  I  drew 
her  to  me,  and  tried  to  soothe  her  tremors  and  get  her  to  talk.  Little 
by  little  she  gained  confidence,  and  began  to  reply  to  my  questions; 
then  I  learnt  that  she  was  a  little  shepherdess,  although  so  young, 
and  spent  most  of  the  time  every  day  in  following  the  flock  about 
on  her  pony.  Her  pony  and  the  girl  Monica,  who  was  some  relation 
— cousin,  the  child  called  her — were  the  two  beings  she  seemed  to 
have  the  greatest  affection  for. 

"And  when  you  slip  off,  how  do  you  get  on  again?"  I  asked. 

"Little  pony  is  tame,  and  I  never  fall  off,"  she  said.  "Sometimes 
I  get  off,  then  I  climb  on  again." 

"And  what  do  you  do  all  day  long — talk  and  play?" 

"I  talk  to  my  doll;  I  take  it  on  the  pony  when  I  go  with  the 
sheep." 

97 


Cfte  purple  JLanD 

"Is  your  doll  very  pretty,  Anita  ?" 

No  answer. 

"Will  you  let  me  see  your  doll,  Anita  ?  I  know  I  shall  like  your 
doll,  because  I  like  you." 

She  gave  me  an  anxious  look.  Evidently  doll  was  a  very  precious 
being  and  had  not  met  with  proper  appreciation.  After  a  little 
nervous  fidgeting  she  left  me  and  crept  out  of  the  room;  then 
presently  she  came  back,  apparently  trying  to  screen  something  from 
the  vulgar  gaze  in  her  scanty  little  dress.  It  was  her  wonderful 
doll — the  dear  companion  of  her  rambles  and  rides.  With  fear  and 
trembling  she  allowed  me  to  take  it  into  my  hands.  It  was,  or  con- 
sisted of,  the  forefoot  of  a  sheep,  cut  off  at  the  knee;  on  the  top  of 
the  knee  part  a  little  wooden  ball  wrapped  in  a  white  rag  repre- 
sented the  head,  and  it  was  dressed  in  a  piece  of  red  flannel — a 
satyr-like  doll,  with  one  hairy  leg  and  a  cloven  foot.  I  praised  its 
pleasing  countenance,  its  pretty  gown  and  dainty  little  boots;  and 
all  I  said  sounded  very  precious  to  Anita,  filling  her  with  emotions 
of  the  liveliest  pleasure. 

"And  do  you  never  play  with  the  dogs  and  cats  and  little 
lambs?"  I  asked. 

"Not  with  the  dogs  and  cats.  When  I  see  a  very  little  lamb 
asleep  I  get  down  and  go  softly,  softly  and  catch  it.  It  tries  to  get 
away;  then  I  put  my  finger  in  its  mouth,  and  it  sucks,  and  sucks; 
then  it  runs  away." 

"And  what  do  you  like  best  to  eat?" 

"Sugar.  When  uncle  buys  sugar,  aunt  gives  me  a  lump.  I  make 
doll  eat  some,  and  bite  of?  one  small  piece  and  put  it  in  pony's 
mouth." 

"Which  would  you  rather  have,  Anita — a  great  many  lumps  of 
sugar,  or  a  beautiful  string  of  beads,  or  a  little  girl  to  play  with  ?" 

This  question  was  rather  too  much  for  her  neglected  little  brain, 
which  had  fed  itself  with  such  simple  fare ;  so  I  was  obliged  to  put 
it  in  various  ways,  and  at  last,  when  she  understood  that  only  one 
of  the  three  things  could  be  chosen,  she  decided  in  favour  of  a  little 
girl  to  play  with. 

Then  I  asked  her  if  she  liked  to  hear  stories;  this  also  puzzled 


Cfte  purple  LanD 

her,  and  after  some  cross-questioning  I  discovered  that  she  had 
never  heard  a  story,  and  did  not  know  what  it  meant. 

"Listen,  Anita,  and  I  will  tell  you  a  story,"  I  said.  "Have  you 
seen  the  white  mist  over  the  Yi  in  the  morning — a  light,  white  mist 
that  flies  away  when  the  sun  gets  hot?" 

Yes,  she  often  saw  the  white  mist  in  the  morning,  she  told  me. 
"Then  I  will  tell  you  a  story  about  the  white  mist  and  a  little  girl 
named  Alma." 

"Little  Alma  lived  close  to  the  River  Yi,  but  far,  far  from  here, 
beyond  the  trees  and  beyond  the  blue  hills,  for  the  Yi  is  a  very  long 
river.  She  lived  with  her  grandmother  and  with  six  uncles,  all  big 
tall  men  with  long  beards;  and  they  always  talked  about  wars, 
and  cattle,  and  horse-racing,  and  a  great  many  other  important 
things  that  Alma  could  not  understand.  There  was  no  one  to  talk 
to  Alma  and  for  Alma  to  talk  to  or  to  play  with.  And  when  she  went 
out  of  the  house  where  all  the  big  people  were  talking,  she  heard 
the  cocks  crowing,  the  dogs  barking,  the  birds  singing,  the  sheep 
bleating,  and  the  trees  rustling  their  leaves  over  her  head,  and  she 
could  not  understand  one  word  of  all  they  said.  At  last,  having  no 
one  to  play  with  or  talk  to,  she  sat  down  and  began  to  cry.  Now,  it 
happened  that  near  the  spot  where  she  sat  there  was  an  old  black 
woman  wearing  a  red  shawl,  who  was  gathering  sticks  for  the  fire, 
and  she  asked  Alma  why  she  cried. 

1  'Because  I  have  no  one  to  talk  to  and  play  with,'  said  Alma. 
Then  the  old  black  woman  drew  a  long  brass  pin  out  of  her  shawl 
and  pricked  Alma's  tongue  with  it,  for  she  made  Alma  hold  it  out 
to  be  pricked. 

'  'Now,'  said  the  old  woman,  'you  can  go  and  play  and  talk  with 
the  dogs,  cats,  birds,  and  trees,  for  you  will  understand  all  they 
say,  and  they  will  understand  all  you  say.' 

"Alma  was  very  glad,  and  ran  home  as  fast  as  she  could  to 
talk  to  the  cat. 

"  'Come,  cat,  let  us  talk  and  play  together,'  she  said. 

"  'Oh  no,'  said  the  cat.  'I  am  very  busy  watching  a  little  bird, 
so  you  must  go  away  and  play  with  little  Niebla  down  by  the 
river.' 

99 


Cfte  Purple  JUnO 

"Then  the  cat  ran  away  among  the  weeds  and  left  her.  The 
dogs  also  refused  to  play  when  she  went  to  them;  for  they  had  to 
watch  the  house  and  bark  at  strangers.  Then  they  also  told  her  to 
go  and  play  with  little  Niebla  down  by  the  river.  Then  Alma  ran 
out  and  caught  a  little  duckling,  a  soft  little  thing  that  looked  like 
a  ball  of  yellow  cotton,  and  said : 

"  'Now,  little  duck,  let  us  talk  and  play.' 

"But  the  duckling  only  struggled  to  get  away  and  screamed, 
'Oh,  mamma,  mamma,  come  and  take  me  away  from  Alma!' 

"Then  the  old  duck  came  rushing  up,  and  said: 

'  'Alma,  let  my  child  alone:  and  if  you  want  to  play,  go  and  play 
with  Niebla  down  by  the  river.  A  nice  thing  to  catch  my  duckie 
in  your  hands — what  next,  I  wonder!' 

"So  she  let  the  duckling  go,  and  at  last  she  said,  'Yes,  I  will  go 
and  play  with  Niebla  down  by  the  river.' 

"She  waited  till  she  saw  the  white  mist,  and  then  ran  all  the 
way  to  the  Yi,  and  stood  still  on  the  green  bank  close  by  the  water 
with  the  white  mist  all  round  her.  By  and  by  she  saw  a  beautiful 
little  child  come  flying  towards  her  in  the  white  mist.  The  child 
came  and  stood  on  the  green  bank  and  looked  at  Alma.  Very, 
very  pretty  she  was;  and  she  wore  a  white  dress — whiter  than  milk, 
whiter  than  foam,  and  all  embroidered  with  purple  flowers;  she 
had  also  white  silk  stockings,  and  scarlet  shoes,  bright  as  scarlet 
verbenas.  Her  hair  was  long  and  fluffy,  and  shone  like  gold,  and 
round  her  neck  she  had  a  string  of  big  gold  beads.  Then  Alma  said, 
'Oh,  beautiful  little  girl,  what  is  your  name?'  to  which  the  little 
girl  answered: 

"  'Niebla.' 

'  'Will  you  talk  to  me  and  play  with  me  ?'  said  Alma. 

"  'Oh,  no,'  said  Niebla,  'how  can  I  play  with  a  little  girl  dressed 
as  you  are  and  with  bare  feet?' 

"For  you  know  poor  Alma  only  wore  a  little  old  frock  that 
came  down  to  her  knees,  and  she  had  no  shoes  and  stockings  on. 
Then  little  Niebla  rose  up  and  floated  away,  away  from  the  bank 
and  down  the  river,  and  at  last,  when  she  was  quite  out  of  sight 
in  the  white  mist,  Alma  began  to  cry.  When  it  got  very  hot  she 

100 


Cfte  purple  LanD 

went  and  sat  down,  still  crying,  under  the  trees;  there  were  two 
very  big  willow-trees  growing  near  the  river.  By  and  by  the  leaves 
rustled  in  the  wind  and  the  trees  began  talking  to  each  other,  and 
Alma  understood  everything  they  said. 

"  'Is  it  going  to  rain,  do  you  think?'  said  one  tree. 

'  'Yes,  I  think  it  will — some  day,'  said  the  other. 

'  'There  are  no  clouds,'  said  the  first  tree. 

'"No,  there  are  no  clouds  to-day,  but  there  were  some  the  day 
before  yesterday,'  said  the  other. 

'  'Have  you  got  any  nests  in  your  branches?'  said  the  first  tree. 

'  'Yes,  one,'  said  the  other.  'It  was  made  by  a  little  yellow  bird, 
and  there  are  five  speckled  eggs  in  it.' 

"Then  the  first  tree  said,  There  is  little  Alma  sitting  in  our 
shade;  do  you  know  why  she  is  crying,  neighbour?' 

"The  other  tree  answered,  'Yes,  it  is  because  she  has  no  one  to 
play  with.  Little  Niebla  by  the  river  refused  to  play  with  her  because 
she  is  not  beautifully  dressed.' 

"Then  the  first  tree  said,  'Ah,  she  ought  to  go  and  ask  the  fox 
for  some  pretty  clothes  to  wear.  The  fox  always  keeps  a  great  store 
of  pretty  things  in  her  hole.' 

"Alma  had  listened  to  every  word  of  this  conversation.  She 
remembered  that  a  fox  lived  on  the  hillside  not  far  off;  for  she  had 
often  seen  it  sitting  in  the  sunshine  with  its  little  ones  playing 
round  it  and  pulling  their  mother's  tail  in  fun.  So  Alma  got  up  and 
ran  till  she  found  the  hole,  and,  putting  her  head  down  it,  she  cried 
out,  'Fox!  Fox!'  But  the  fox  seemed  cross,  and  only  answered,  with- 
out coming  out,  'Go  away,  Alma,  and  talk  to  little  Niebla.  I  am  busy 
getting  dinner  for  my  children  and  have  no  time  to  talk  to  you 
now.' 

"Then  Alma  cried,  'Oh,  Fox,  Niebla  will  not  play  with  me  be- 
cause I  have  no  pretty  things  to  wear.  Oh,  Fox,  will  you  give  me  a 
nice  dress  and  shoes  and  stockings  and  a  string  of  beads  ?' 

"After  a  little  while  the  fox  came  out  of  its  hole  with  a  big 
bundle  done  up  in  a  red  cotton  handkerchief  and  said,  'Here  are  the 
things,  Alma,  and  I  hope  they  will  fit  you.  But  you  know,  Alma, 
you  really  ought  not  to  come  at  this  time  of  day,  for  I  am  very 

101 


Cfte  purple  JLanD 

busy  just  now  cooking  the  dinner — an  armadillo  roasted  and  a 
couple  of  partridges  stewed  with  rice,  and  a  little  omelette  of  tur- 
keys' eggs.  I  mean  plovers'  eggs,  of  course;  I  never  touch  turkeys' 
eggs.' 

"Alma  said  she  was  very  sorry  to  give  so  much  trouble. 

'  'Oh,  never  mind,'  said  the  fox.  'How  is  your  grandmother?' 

"  'She  is  very  well,  thank  you,'  said  Alma,  'but  she  has  a  bad 
headache.' 

"  1  am  very  sorry  to  hear  it,'  said  the  fox.  'Tell  her  to  stick  two 
fresh  dock-leaves  on  her  temples,  and  to  drink  a  little  weak  tea 
made  of  knot-grass,  and  on  no  account  to  go  out  in  the  hot  sun.  I 
should  like  to  go  and  see  her,  only  I  do  not  like  the  dogs  being 
always  about  the  house.  Give  her  my  best  respects.  And  now  run 
home,  Alma,  and  try  on  the  things,  and  when  you  are  passing  this 
way  you  can  bring  me  back  the  handkerchief,  as  I  always  tie  my 
face  up  in  it  when  I  have  the  toothache.' 

"Alma  thanked  the  fox  very  much  and  ran  home  as  fast  as  she 
could,  and  when  the  bundle  was  opened  she  found  in  it  a  beautiful 
white  dress,  embroidered  with  purple  flowers,  a  pair  of  scarlet 
shoes,  silk  stockings,  and  a  string  of  great  golden  beads.  They  all 
fitted  her  very  well;  and  next  day  when  the  white  mist  was  on  the 
Yi  she  dressed  herself  in  her  beautiful  clothes  and  went  down  to  the 
river.  By  and  by  little  Niebla  came  flying  along,  and  when  she  saw 
Alma  she  came  and  kissed  her  and  took  her  by  the  hand.  All  the 
morning  they  played  and  talked  together,  gathering  flowers  and 
running  races  over  the  green  sward:  and  at  last  Niebla  bade  her 
good-bye  and  flew  away,  for  all  the  white  mist  was  floating  off 
down  the  river.  But  every  day  after  that  Alma  found  her  little 
companion  by  the  Yi,  and  was  very  happy,  for  now  she  had  some- 
one to  talk  to  and  to  play  with." 

After  I  had  finished  the  story  Anita  continued  gazing  into  my 
face  with  an  absorbed  expression  in  her  large,  wistful  eyes.  She 
seemed  half  scared,  half  delighted  at  what  she  had  heard;  but 
presently,  before  the  little  thing  had  said  a  word,  Monica,  who  had 
been  directing  shy  and  wondering  glances  towards  us  for  some 
time,  came,  and,  taking  her  by  the  hand,  led  her  away  to  bed. 

102 


Cfte  purple  HanD 

I  was  getting  sleepy  then,  and,  as  the  clatter  of  talk  and  war- 
like preparation  showed  no  signs  of  abating,  I  was  glad  to  be  shown 
into  another  room,  where  some  sheep-skins,  rugs,  and  a  couple  of 
ponchos  were  given  to  me  for  a  bed. 

During  the  night  all  the  men  took  their  departure,  for  in  the 
morning,  when  I  went  into  the  kitchen,  I  only  found  the  old  woman 
and  Alday's  wife  sipping  bitter  mate.  The  child,  they  informed  me, 
had  disappeared  from  the  house  an  hour  before,  and  Monica  had 
gone  out  to  look  for  her.  Alday's  wife  was  highly  indignant  at  the 
little  one's  escapade,  for  it  was  high  time  for  Anita  to  go  out  with 
the  flock.  After  taking  mate  I  went  out,  and,  looking  towards  the 
Yi,  veiled  in  a  silvery  mist,  I  spied  Monica  leading  the  culprit  home 
by  the  hand,  and  went  to  meet  them.  Poor  little  Anita!  her  face 
stained  with  tears,  her  little  legs  and  feet  covered  with  clay  and 
scratched  by  sharp  reeds  in  fifty  places,  her  dress  soaking  wet  with 
the  heavy  mist,  looked  a  most  pitiful  object. 

"Where  did  you  find  her?"  I  asked  the  girl,  beginning  to  fear 
that  I  had  been  the  indirect  cause  of  the  poor  child's  misfortunes. 

"Down  by  the  river  looking  for  little  Niebla.  I  knew  she  would 
be  there  when  I  missed  her  this  morning." 

"How  did  you  know  that?"  I  asked.  "You  did  not  hear  the  story 
I  told  her." 

"I  made  her  repeat  it  all  to  me  last  night,"  said  Monica. 

After  that  little  Anita  was  scolded,  shaken,  washed  and  dried, 
then  fed,  and  finally  lifted  on  to  the  back  of  her  pony  and  sent  to 
take  care  of  the  sheep.  While  undergoing  this  treatment  she  main- 
tained a  profound  silence,  her  little  face  puckered  up  into  an  expres- 
sion that  boded  tears.  They  were  not  for  the  public,  however,  and 
only  after  she  was  on  the  pony,  with  the  reins  in  her  little  mites  of 
hands  and  her  back  towards  us,  did  she  give  way  to  her  grief  and 
disappointment  at  having  failed  to  find  the  beautiful  child  of  the 
mist. 

I  was  astonished  to  find  that  she  had  taken  the  fantastic  little  tale 
invented  to  amuse  her  as  truth;  but  the  poor  babe  had  never  read 
books  or  heard  stories,  and  the  fairy  tale  had  been  too  much  for  her 
starved  little  imagination.  I  remember  that  once  on  another  occasion 

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I  told  a  pathetic  story  of  a  little  child,  lost  in  a  great  wilderness,  to 
a  girl  about  Anita's  age,  and  just  as  unaccustomed  to  this  kind  of 
mental  fare.  Next  morning  her  mother  informed  me  that  my  little 
listener  had  spent  half  the  night  sobbing  and  begging  to  be  allowed 
to  go  and  look  for  that  lost  child  I  had  told  her  about. 

Hearing  that  Alday  would  not  return  till  evening  or  till  the  fol- 
lowing day,  I  asked  his  wife  to  lend  or  give  me  a  horse  to  proceed 
on  my  journey.  This,  however,  she  could  not  do;  then  she  added, 
very  graciously,  that  while  all  the  men  were  away  my  presence  in 
the  house  would  be  a  comfort  to  her,  a  man  always  being  a  great 
protection.  The  arrangement  did  not  strike  me  as  one  very  advan- 
tageous to  myself,  but,  as  I  could  not  journey  very  well  to  Monte- 
video on  foot,  I  was  compelled  to  sit  still  and  wait  for  Alday's 
return. 

It  was  dull  work  talking  to  those  two  women  in  the  kitchen. 
They  were  both  great  talkers,  and  had  evidently  come  to  a  tacit 
agreement  to  share  their  one  listener  fairly  between  them,  for  first 
one,  then  the  other  would  speak  with  a  maddening  monotony. 
Alday's  wife  had  six  favourite,  fine-sounding  words — dements, 
superior,  division,  prolongation,  justification,  and  disproportion. 
One  of  these  she  somehow  managed  to  drag  into  every  sentence, 
and  sometimes  she  succeeded  in  getting  in  two.  Whenever  this  hap- 
pened the  achievement  made  her  so  proud  that  she  would  in  the 
most  deliberate  cold-blooded  way  repeat  the  sentence  again,  word 
for  word.  The  strength  of  the  old  woman  lay  in  dates.  Not  an  occur- 
rence did  she  mention,  whether  it  referred  to  some  great  public 
event  or  to  some  trivial  domestic  incident  in  her  own  rancho,  with- 
out giving  the  year,  the  month,  and  the  day.  The  duet  between  these 
two  confounded  barrel-organs,  one  grinding  out  rhetoric,  the  other 
chronology,  went  on  all  the  morning,  and  often  I  turned  to  Monica, 
sitting  over  her  sewing,  in  hopes  of  a  different  tune  from  her  more 
melodious  instrument,  but  in  vain,  for  never  a  word  dropped  from 
those  silent  lips.  Occasionally  her  dark,  luminous  eyes  were  raised 
for  a  moment,  only  to  sink  abashed  again  when  they  encountered 
mine.  After  breakfast  I  went  for  a  walk  along  the  river,  where  I 
spent  several  hours  hunting  for  flowers  and  fossils,  and  amusing  my- 

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Cfte  purple  Land 

self  as  best  I  could.  There  were  legions  of  duck,  coot,  rosy  spoonbills, 
and  black-necked  swans  disporting  themselves  in  the  water,  and 
I  was  very  thankful  that  I  had  no  gun  with  me,  and  so  was  not 
tempted  to  startle  them  with  rude  noises,  and  send  any  of  them 
away  to  languish  wounded  amongst  the  reeds.  At  length,  after  hav- 
ing indulged  in  a  good  swim,  I  set  out  to  walk  back  to  the  estancia. 

When  still  about  a  mile  from  the  house  as  I  walked  on,  swinging 
my  stick  and  singing  aloud  in  lightness  of  heart,  I  passed  a  clump  of 
willow-trees,  and,  looking  up,  saw  Monica  under  them  watching 
my  approach.  She  was  standing  perfectly  motionless,  and,  when  I 
caught  sight  of  her,  cast  her  eyes  demurely  down,  apparently  to 
contemplate  her  bare  feet,  which  looked  very  white  on  the  deep 
green  turf.  In  one  hand  she  held  a  cluster  of  stalks  of  the  large, 
crimson,  autumnal  lilies  which  had  just  begun  to  blossom.  My 
singing  ceased  suddenly,  and  I  stood  for  some  moments  gazing 
admiringly  at  the  shy,  rustic  beauty. 

"What  a  distance  you  have  walked  to  gather  lilies,  Monica!" 
I  said,  approaching  her.  "Will  you  give  me  one  of  your  stalks  ?" 

"They  were  gathered  for  the  Virgin,  so  I  cannot  give  away  any 
of  these,"  she  replied.  "If  you  will  wait  here  under  the  trees  I  will 
find  one  to  give  you." 

I  agreed  to  wait  for  her;  then,  placing  the  cluster  she  had  gath- 
ered on  the  grass,  she  left  me.  Before  long  she  returned  with  a  stalk, 
round,  polished,  slender,  like  a  pipe-stem,  and  crowned  with  its 
cluster  of  three  splendid  crimson  flowers. 

When  I  had  sufficiently  thanked  her  and  admired  it,  I  said, 
"What  boon  are  you  going  to  ask  from  the  Virgin,  Monica,  when 
you  offer  her  these  flowers — safety  for  your  lover  in  the  wars?" 

"No,  senor;  I  have  no  offering  to  make,  and  no  boon  to  ask. 
They  are  for  my  aunt;  I  offered  to  gather  them  for  her,  because — I 
wished  to  meet  you  here." 

"To  meet  me,  Monica — what  for?" 

"To  ask  for  a  story,  senor,"  she  replied,  colouring  and  with  a 
shy  glance  at  my  face. 

"Ah,  we  have  had  stories  enough,"  I  said.  "Remember  poor 

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Anita  running  away  this  morning  to  look  for  a  playmate  in  the  wet 
mist." 

"She  is  a  child;  I  am  a  woman." 

"Then,  Monica,  you  must  have  a  lover  who  will  be  jealous  if 
you  listen  to  stories  from  a  stranger's  lips  in  this  lonely  spot." 

"No  person  will  ever  know  that  I  met  you  here,"  she  returned 
— so  bashful,  yet  so  persistent. 

"I  have  forgotten  all  my  stories,"  I  said. 

"Then,  senor,  I  will  go  and  find  you  another  ramo  of  lilies 
while  you  think  of  one  to  tell  me." 

"No,"  I  said,  "you  must  get  no  more  lilies  for  me.  Look,  I  will 
give  you  back  these  you  gave  me."  And,  saying  that,  I  fastened 
them  in  her  black  hair,  where  by  contrast  they  looked  very  splendid, 
and  gave  the  girl  a  new  grace.  "Ah,  Monica,  they  make  you  look  too 
pretty — let  me  take  them  out  again." 

But  she  would  not  have  them  taken.  "I  will  leave  you  now  to 
think  of  a  story  for  me,"  she  said,  blushing  and  turning  away. 

Then  I  took  her  hands  and  made  her  face  me.  "Listen,  Monica," 
I  said.  "Do  you  know  that  these  lilies  are  full  of  strange  magic? 
See  how  crimson  they  are ;  that  is  the  colour  of  passion,  for  they  have 
been  steeped  in  passion,  and  turn  my  heart  to  fire.  If  you  bring  me 
any  more  of  them,  Monica,  I  shall  tell  you  a  story  that  will  make 
you  tremble  with  fear — tremble  like  the  willow-leaves  and  turn 
pale  as  the  mist  over  the  Yi." 

She  smiled  at  my  words;  it  was  like  a  ray  of  sunlight  falling 
through  the  foliage  on  her  face.  Then,  in  a  voice  that  was  almost 
a  whisper,  she  said,  "What  will  the  story  be  about,  senor  ?  Tell  me, 
then  I  shall  know  whether  to  gather  lilies  for  you  or  not." 

"It  will  be  about  a  stranger  meeting  a  sweet,  pale  girl  standing 
under  the  trees,  her  dark  eyes  cast  down,  and  red  lilies  in  her  hand ; 
and  how  she  asked  him  for  a  story,  but  he  could  speak  to  her  of 
nothing  but  love,  love,  love." 

When  I  finished  speaking  she  gently  withdrew  her  hands  from 
mine  and  turned  away  amongst  the  trees,  doubtless  to  fly  from  me, 
trembling  at  my  words,  like  a  frightened  young  fawn  from  the 
hunter. 

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Cfte  purple  LanD 

So  for  a  moment  I  thought.  But  no,  there  lay  the  lilies  gathered 
for  a  religious  purpose  at  my  feet,  and  there  was  nothing  reproach- 
ful in  the  shy,  dark  eyes  when  they  glanced  back  for  a  moment 
at  me;  for,  in  spite  of  those  warning  words,  she  had  only  gone  to 
find  more  of  those  perilous  crimson  flowers  to  give  me. 

Not  then,  while  I  waited  for  her  return  with  palpitating  heart, 
but  afterwards  in  calmer  moments,  and  when  Monica  had  become  a 
pretty  picture  in  the  past,  did  I  compose  the  following  lines.  I  am 
not  so  vain  as  to  believe  that  they  possess  any  great  poetical  merit, 
and  introduce  them  principally  to  let  the  reader  know  how  to  pro- 
nounce the  pretty  name  of  that  Oriental  river,  which  it  still  keeps  in 
remembrance  of  a  vanished  race. 

Standing  silent,  pale  her  face  was, 

Pale  and  sweet  to  see: 
'Neath  the  willows  waiting  for  me, 

Willow-like  was  she, 
Smiling,  blushing,  trembling,  bashful 

Maid  of  Yi. 

Willow-like  she  trembled,  yet  she 

Never  fled  from  me; 
But  her  dove-like  eyes  were  downcast, 

On  the  grass  to  see 
White  feet  standing:  white  thy  feet  were, 

Maid  of  Yi. 

Stalks  of  lilies  in  her  hands  were: 

Crimson  lilies  three, 
Placed  I  in  her  braids  of  black  hair — 

They  were  bright  to  see! 
Lift  thy  dark  eyes,  for  I  love  thee, 

Maid  of  Yi! 


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Cfte  purple  JLanD 


CHAPTER  XV 

IN  THE  evening  Alday  returned  with  a  couple  of  his  friends, 
and,  as  soon  as  an  opportunity  offered,  I  took  him  aside  and 
begged  him  to  let  me  have  a  horse  to  continue  my  journey  to 
Montevideo.  He  answered  evasively  that  the  horse  I  had  lost  in  the 
neighbouring  forest  would  probably  be  recovered  in  the  course  of 
two  or  three  days.  I  replied  that  if  he  would  let  me  have  a  horse, 
the  one  I  had  lost,  together  with  saddle,  poncho,  etc.,  could  be 
claimed  by  him  whenever  they  turned  up.  He  then  said  that  he 
could  not  very  well  give  me  a  horse,  "with  saddle  and  bridle  also." 
It  looked  as  if  he  wanted  to  keep  me  in  his  house  for  some  purpose 
of  his  own,  and  this  made  me  all  the  more  determined  to  leave  it  im- 
mediately, in  spite  of  the  tender,  reproachful  glances  which  Monica 
flashed  on  me  from  under  her  long,  drooping  eyelashes.  I  told  him 
that  if  I  could  not  have  a  horse  I  would  leave  his  estancia  on  foot. 
That  rather  put  him  in  a  corner;  for  in  this  country,  where  horse- 
stealing  and  cheating  at  cards  are  looked  on  as  venial  offenses,  to 
let  a  man  leave  your  estancia  on  foot  is  considered  a  very  dis- 
honourable thing.  He  pondered  over  my  declaration  for  some 
minutes,  then,  after  conferring  with  his  friends,  he  promised  to 
provide  me  with  all  I  required  next  day.  I  had  heard  nothing  more 
about  the  revolution,  but  after  supper  Alday  suddenly  became  very 
confidential,  and  said  that  the  whole  country  would  be  up  in  arms 
in  the  course  of  a  very  few  days,  and  that  it  would  be  highly  dan- 
gerous for  me  to  attempt  travelling  by  myself  to  the  capital.  He 
expatiated  on  the  immense  prestige  of  General  Santa  Coloma,  who 
had  just  taken  up  arms  against  the  Colorado  party  then  in  power, 
and  concluded  by  saying  that  my  safest  plan  would  be  to  join  the 
rebels,  and  accompany  them  on  their  march  to  Montevideo  which 
would  begin  almost  immediately.  I  replied  that  I  took  no  interest 

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Cbc  Purple  LanD 

in  the  dissensions  of  the  Banda  Oriental,  and  did  not  wish  to  com- 
promise myself  by  joining  a  military  expedition  of  any  kind.  He 
shrugged  his  shoulders,  and,  renewing  his  promise  of  a  horse  next 
day,  retired  to  rest. 

On  rising  next  morning  I  found  that  the  others  were  already  up. 
The  horses  were  standing  saddled  at  the  door,  and  Alday,  pointing 
out  a  very  fair-looking  animal,  informed  me  that  it  had  been 
saddled  for  me,  and  then  added  that  he  and  his  friends  would  ride 
one  or  two  leagues  with  me  to  put  me  on  the  right  road  to  Monte- 
video. He  had  suddenly  become  almost  too  kind,  but  in  the  sim- 
plicity of  my  heart  I  believed  that  he  was  only  making  amends  for 
the  slight  inhospitality  of  the  day  before. 

After  partaking  of  bitter  mate,  I  thanked  my  hostess,  looked  my 
last  into  Monica's  dark,  sorrowful  eyes,  lifted  for  one  moment  to 
mine,  and  kissed  little  Anita's  pathetic  face,  by  so  doing  filling 
the  child  with  astonishment  and  causing  considerable  amusement 
to  the  other  members  of  the  family.  After  we  had  ridden  about 
four  miles,  keeping  nearly  parallel  with  the  river,  it  struck  me  that 
we  were  not  going  in  the  right  direction — the  right  one  for  me,  at 
any  rate.  I  therefore  checked  my  horse  and  told  my  companions  that 
I  would  not  trouble  them  to  ride  with  me  any  further. 

"My  friend,"  said  Alday,  approaching  me,  "you  will,  if  you 
leave  us  now,  infallibly  fall  into  the  hands  of  some  partida,  who, 
finding  you  without  a  passport,  will  take  you  to  El  Molino,  or  to 
some  other  centre.  Though  it  would  make  no  difference  if  you  had 
a  passport,  for  they  would  only  tear  it  up  and  take  you  all  the  same. 
In  these  circumstances  it  is  your  safest  plan  to  go  with  us  to  El 
Molino,  where  General  Santa  Coloma  is  collecting  his  forces,  and 
you  will  then  be  able  to  explain  your  position  to  him." 

"I  refuse  to  go  to  El  Molino,"  I  said  angrily,  exasperated  at  his 
treachery. 

"You  will  then  compel  us  to  take  you  there,"  he  returned. 

I  had  no  wish  to  become  a  prisoner  again  so  soon,  and,  seeing 
that  a  bold  stroke  was  necessary  to  keep  my  liberty,  I  suddenly 
reined  up  my  horse  and  drew  my  revolver.  "My  friends,"  I  said, 

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Cfce  purple  JLanB 

"your  road  lies  in  that  direction;  mine  in  this.  I  wish  you  good 
morning." 

I  had  scarcely  finished  speaking  before  a  blow  of  a  heavy  whip- 
handle  descended  on  my  arm  below  the  elbow,  almost  breaking  it, 
and  sending  me  off  my  horse,  while  the  revolver  went  spinning 
away  a  dozen  yards.  The  blow  had  been  dealt  by  one  of  Alday's 
two  followers,  who  had  just  dropped  a  little  to  the  rear,  and  the 
rascal  certainly  showed  a  marvellous  quickness  and  dexterity  in 
disabling  me. 

Wild  with  rage  and  pain,  I  scrambled  to  my  feet,  and,  drawing 
my  knife,  threatened  to  stab  the  first  man  who  approached  me; 
and  then,  in  unmeasured  language,  I  abused  Alday  for  his  cowardice 
and  brutality.  He  only  smiled  and  replied  that  he  considered  my 
youth,  and  therefore  felt  no  resentment  against  me  for  using  such 
intemperate  words. 

"And  now,  my  friend,"  he  continued,  after  picking  up  my 
revolver  and  remounting  his  horse,  "let  us  waste  no  more  time,  but 
hasten  on  to  El  Molino,  where  you  can  state  your  case  to  the 
General." 

As  I  did  not  wish  to  be  tied  on  to  my  horse  and  carried  in  that 
unpleasant  and  ignominious  manner,  I  had  to  obey.  Climbing  into 
the  saddle  with  some  difficulty,  we  set  out  towards  the  village  of 
El  Molino  at  a  swinging  gallop.  The  rough  motion  of  the  horse 
I  rode  increased  the  pain  in  my  arm  till  it  became  intolerable;  then 
one  of  the  men  mercifully  bound  it  up  in  a  sling,  after  which  I  was 
able  to  travel  more  comfortably,  though  still  suffering  a  great  deal. 

The  day  was  excessively  warm,  and  we  did  not  reach  our  des- 
tination till  about  three  o'clock  in  the  afternoon.  Just  before  enter- 
ing the  town  we  rode  through  a  little  army  of  gauchos  encamped 
on  the  adjacent  plain.  Some  of  them  were  engaged  cooking  meat, 
others  were  saddling  horses,  while  others,  in  bodies  of  twenty  or 
thirty,  were  going  through  cavalry  exercises,  the  whole  making  a 
scene  of  wonderful  animation.  Very  nearly  all  the  men  wore  the 
ordinary  gaucho  costume,  and  those  who  were  exercising  carried 
lances,  to  which  were  attached  little  white,  fluttering  bannerets. 
Passing  through  the  encampment,  we  clattered  into  the  town,  com- 

110 


Cfte  Ipurple  JLann 


posed  of  about  seventy  or  eighty  houses  of  stone  or  mud,  some 
thatched,  others  with  tiled  roofs,  and  every  house  with  a  large 
garden  attached  to  it.  At  the  official  building  facing  the  plaza  a 
guard  of  ten  men,  armed  with  carbines,  was  stationed.  We  dis- 
mounted and  went  into  the  building,  only  to  hear  that  the  General 
had  just  left  the  town,  and  was  not  expected  back  till  the  following 
day. 

Alday  spoke  to  an  officer  sitting  at  a  table  in  the  room  we  were 
shown  into,  addressing  him  as  Major.  He  was  a  thin,  elderly  man, 
with  calm  grey  eyes  and  a  colourless  face,  and  looked  like  a  gen- 
tleman. After  hearing  a  few  words  from  Alday,  he  turned  to  me 
and  said  courteously  that  he  was  sorry  to  tell  me  I  should  have  to 
remain  in  El  Molino  till  the  General's  return,  when  I  could  give 
an  account  of  myself  to  him. 

"We  do  not,"  he  said  in  conclusion,  "wish  to  compel  any  for- 
eigner, or  any  Oriental  even,  to  join  our  forces  ;  but  we  are  naturally 
suspicious  of  strangers,  having  already  caught  two  or  three  spies  in 
the  neighbourhood.  Unfortunately  you  are  not  provided  with  a  pass- 
port, and  it  is  best  that  the  General  should  see  you." 

"Sir  officer,"  I  replied,  "by  ill-treating  and  detaining  an  English- 
man you  are  doing  your  cause  no  good." 

He  answered  that  he  was  grieved  that  his  people  had  found  it 
necessary  to  treat  me  roughly,  for  he  put  it  in  that  mild  way. 
Everything,  he  said,  short  of  liberating  me,  would  be  done  to  make 
my  sojourn  in  El  Molino  pleasant. 

"If  it  is  necessary  that  the  General  should  see  me  himself  before 
I  can  have  my  liberty,  pray  let  these  men  take  me  to  him  at  once," 
I  said. 

"He  has  not  yet  left  El  Molino,"  said  an  orderly,  standing  in  the 
room.  "He  is  at  the  end  of  the  town  at  the  Casa  Blanca,  and  does 
not  leave  till  half-past  three." 

"It  is  nearly  that  now,"  said  the  officer,  consulting  his  watch. 
"Take  him  to  the  General  at  once,  Lieutenant  Alday." 

I  thanked  the  officer,  who  had  looked  and  spoken  so  unlike  a 
revolutionary  bandit,  and,  as  soon  as  I  had  succeeded  in  clambering 
on  to  my  horse,  we  were  once  more  dashing  along  the  main  street 

in 


Cfje  Purple  JLanD 

at  a  fast  gallop.  We  drew  up  before  a  large,  old-looking  stone  house 
at  the  end  of  the  town,  standing  some  distance  back  from  the  road, 
and  screened  from  it  by  a  double  row  of  tall  Lombardy  poplars.  The 
back  of  the  house  was  towards  the  road,  and,  passing  round  to  the 
front  after  leaving  our  horses  at  the  gate,  we  entered  a  spacious 
patio,  or  yard.  Running  along  the  front  of  the  dwelling  was  a  wide 
corridor,  supported  by  wooden  pillars,  painted  white,  while  the 
whole  of  the  patio  was  shaded  by  an  immense  grape-vine.  This  was 
evidently  one  of  the  best  houses  in  the  place,  and,  coming  directly 
from  the  glaring  sun  and  the  white,  dusty  road,  the  vine-shaded 
patio  and  corridor  looked  delightfully  cool  and  inviting.  A  gay 
company  of  twelve  or  fifteen  people  were  gathered  under  the  corri- 
dor, some  sipping  mate,  others  sucking  grapes ;  and  when  we  came 
on  the  scene  a  young  lady  was  just  finishing  a  song  she  was  singing. 
I  at  once  singled  out  General  Santa  Coloma,  sitting  by  the  young 
lady  with  the  guitar — a  tall,  imposing  man,  with  somewhat  irregu- 
lar features,  and  a  bronzed,  weather-beaten  face.  He  was  booted 
and  spurred,  and  over  his  uniform  wore  a  white  silk  poncho  with 
purple  fringe.  I  judged  from  his  countenance  that  he  was  not  a  stern 
or  truculent  man,  as  one  expects  a  Caudillo — a  leader  of  men — in 
the  Banda  Oriental  to  be:  and,  remembering  that  in  a  few  minutes 
lie  would  be  leaving  the  house,  I  was  anxious  to  push  forward  and 
state  my  case  to  him.  The  others,  however,  prevented  me,  for  the 
General  just  then  happened  to  be  engaged  in  a  vivacious  conversa- 
tion with  the  young  lady  sitting  by  him.  When  I  had  once  looked 
attentively  at  this  girl  I  had  eyes  for  no  other  face  there.  The  type 
was  Spanish,  and  I  have  never  seen  a  more  perfect  face  of  the  kind; 
a  wealth  of  blue-black  hair  shading  the  low,  broad  forehead,  straight 
nose,  dark,  luminous  eyes,  and  crimson,  pouting  lips.  She  was  tall, 
perfect  in  her  figure  as  in  her  face,  and  wore  a  white  dress  with  a 
deep  red  China  rose  on  her  bosom  for  only  ornament.  Standing 
there  unnoticed  at  the  end  of  the  corridor,  I  gazed  with  a  kind  of 
fascination  on  her,  listening  to  her  light,  rippling  laughter  and  lively 
talk,   watching   her   graceful    gestures,    her   sparkling    eyes,    and 
damask  cheeks  flushed  with  excitement.  Here  is  a  woman,  I  thought 

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with  a  sigh — I  felt  a  slight  twinge  at  that  disloyal  sigh — I  could  have 
worshipped.  She  was  pressing  the  guitar  on  the  General. 

"You  have  promised  to  sing  one  song  before  you  go,  and  I  can- 
not let  you  off,"  she  exclaimed. 

At  length  he  took  the  instrument,  protesting  that  his  voice  was 
a  very  bad  one;  then,  sweeping  the  strings,  began  that  fine  old 
Spanish  song  of  love  and  war: 

"Cuando  suena  la  trompa  guerrera." 

His  voice  was  uncultivated  and  somewhat  harsh,  but  there  was 
a  good  deal  of  fire  and  expression  in  the  performance,  and  it  was 
rapturously  applauded. 

The  moment  the  song  was  over  he  handed  her  back  the  guitar, 
and,  starting  up  hastily,  bade  the  company  adieu,  and  turned  to  go. 

Coming  forward,  I  placed  myself  before  him  and  began  to 
speak. 

"I  am  pressed  for  time  and  cannot  listen  to  you  now,"  he  said 
quickly,  scarcely  glancing  at  me.  "You  are  a  prisoner — wounded,  I 
see;  well,  when  I  return—  "  Suddenly  he  stopped,  caught  hold  of 
my  wounded  arm,  and  said,  "How  did  you  get  hurt?  Tell  me 
quickly." 

His  sharp,  impatient  manner,  and  the  sight  of  twenty  people 
all  standing  round  staring  at  me,  quite  upset  me,  and  I  could  only 
stammer  out  a  few  unintelligible  words,  feeling  that  my  face  was 
blushing  scarlet  to  the  very  roots  of  my  hair. 

"Let  me  tell  you,  General,"  said  Alday,  advancing. 

"No,  no,"  said  the  General;  "he  shall  speak." 

The  sight  of  Alday  so  eager  to  give  his  version  of  the  affair  first 
restored  my  anger  to  me,  and  with  that  came  back  the  power  of 
speech  and  the  other  faculties  which  I  had  lost  for  a  moment. 

"Sir  General,  all  I  have  to  say  is  this,"  I  said;  "I  came  to  this 
man's  house  at  night,  a  stranger,  lost,  on  foot,  for  my  horse  had  been 
stolen  from  me.  I  asked  him  for  shelter  in  the  belief  that  at  least 
the  one  virtue  of  hospitality  still  survives  in  this  country.  He,  assisted 
by  these  two  men,  treacherously  disabled  me  with  a  blow  on  my 
arm  and  dragged  me  here  a  prisoner." 

"3 


Cfte  purple  JLanD 

"My  good  friend,"  said  the  General,  "I  am  extremely  sorry  that 
you  have  been  hurt  through  an  excess  of  zeal  on  the  part  of  one  of 
my  people.  But  I  can  scarcely  regret  this  incident,  painful  as  it 
seems,  since  it  enables  me  to  assure  you  that  one  other  virtue  besides 
hospitality  still  survives  in  the  Banda  Oriental — I  mean  gratitude." 

"I  do  not  understand  you,"  I  said. 

"We  were  companions  in  misfortune  a  very  short  time  ago,"  he 
returned.  "Have  you  forgotten  the  service  you  did  me  then?" 

I  stared  at  him,  astonished  at  his  words;  and  while  I  looked  into 
his  face,  suddenly  that  scene  at  the  magistrate's  estancia,  when  I 
went  with  the  key  to  let  my  fellow-traveller  out  of  the  stocks,  and 
he  jumped  up  and  seized  my  hand,  flashed  on  me.  Still  I  was  not 
quite  sure,  and  half  whispered  tentatively,  "What,  Marcos  Marco?" 

"Yes,"  he  returned,  smiling,  "that  was  my  name  at  that  mo- 
ment. My  friends,"  he  continued,  resting  a  hand  on  my  shoulder, 
and  speaking  to  the  others,  "I  have  met  this  young  Englishman  be- 
fore. A  few  days  ago,  when  I  was  on  my  way  hither,  I  was  arrested 
at  Las  Cuevas  in  his  company;  it  was  by  means  of  his  assistance  that 
I  succeeded  in  making  my  escape.  He  did  this  good  deed,  believing 
at  the  time  that  he  was  helping  a  poor  peasant,  and  not  expecting 
any  return." 

I  might  have  reminded  him  that  only  after  he  had  given  me  a 
solemn  assurance  that  he  did  not  intend  attempting  to  make  his 
escape,  did  I  consent  to  get  his  legs  out  of  the  stocks.  However, 
as  he  thought  proper  to  forget  that  part  of  the  affair  I  was  not  going 
to  recall  it  to  him. 

There  were  many  surprised  exclamations  from  the  bystanders, 
and,  glancing  at  that  beautiful  girl,  who  was  standing  near  with  the 
others,  I  found  her  dark  eyes  fixed  on  my  face  with  an  expression 
of  tenderness  and  sympathy  in  them  that  sent  the  blood  rushing  to 
my  heart. 

"They  have  hurt  you  badly,  I  fear,"  said  the  General,  addressing 
me  again.  "To  continue  your  journey  now  would  be  imprudent. 
Let  me  beg  of  you  to  remain  where  you  are,  in  this  house,  till  your 
arm  is  better."  Then,  turning  to  the  young  lady,  he  said,  "Dolores, 

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will  you  and  your  mother  take  charge  of  my  young  friend  till  1 
return,  and  see  that  his  injured  arm  is  attended  to?" 

"My  General,  you  will  make  us  happy  by  leaving  him  in  our 
care,"  she  replied,  with  a  bright  smile. 

He  then  introduced  me  as  Don  Ricardo  simply — for  he  did  not 
know  my  surname — to  the  lovely  senorita,  Dolores  Zelaya;  after 
which  he  again  bade  us  adieu  and  hurried  away. 

When  he  had  gone,  Alday  advanced,  hat  in  hand,  and  gave  me 
back  my  revolver,  which  I  had  forgotten  all  about.  I  took  it  with 
my  left  hand,  and  put  it  in  my  pocket.  He  then  apologised  for  hav- 
ing treated  me  roughly — the  Major  had  taught  him  that  word — 
but  without  the  faintest  trace  of  servility  in  his  speech  or  manner; 
and  after  that  he  offered  me  his  hand. 

"Which  will  you  have,"  I  said,  "the  hand  you  have  injured  or 
the  left  hand?" 

He  immediately  dropped  his  own  hand  to  his  side,  then,  bowing, 
said  he  would  wait  till  I  had  recovered  the  use  of  my  right  hand. 
Turning  to  go,  he  added  with  a  smile  that  he  hoped  the  injury 
would  soon  heal,  so  that  I  would  be  able  to  wield  a  sword  in  my 
friend  Santa  Coloma's  cause. 

His  manner,  I  thought,  was  a  little  too  independent.  "Pray  take 
back  your  horse  now,"  I  said,  "as  I  have  no  further  use  for  it,  and 
accept  my  thanks  for  conducting  me  thus  far  on  my  journey." 

"Do  not  mention  it,"  he  replied,  with  a  dignified  wave  of  his 
hand.  "I  am  pleased  to  have  been  able  to  render  you  this  small 


service." 


Cfte  purple  JLanD 


W 


CHAPTER  XVI 

HEN  Alday  had  left  us,  the  charming  senorita,  in  whose 
care  I  was  well  pleased  to  find  myself,  led  me  into  a 
cool,  spacious  room,  dimly  lighted,  scantily  furnished, 
and  with  a  floor  of  red  tiles.  It  was  a  great  relief  to  drop  into  a  sofa 
there,  for  I  now  felt  fatigued  and  suffered  great  pain  from  my  arm. 
In  a  few  moments  I  had  the  senorita,  her  mother,  Dona  Mercedes, 
and  an  old  serving-woman  all  round  me.  Gently  drawing  off  my 
coat,  they  subjected  my  wounded  arm  to  a  minute  examination; 
their  compassionate  finger-tips — those  of  the  lovely  Dolores  espe- 
cially— feeling  like  a  soft,  cooling  rain  on  the  swollen,  inflamed 
part,  which  had  become  quite  purple. 

"Ah,  how  barbarous  of  them  to  hurt  you  like  that!  a  friend,  too, 
of  our  General!"  exclaimed  my  beautiful  nurse;  which  made  me 
think  that  I  had  involuntarily  become  associated  with  the  right 
political  party  in  the  State. 

They  rubbed  the  arm  with  sweet  oil;  while  the  old  servant 
brought  in  a  bundle  of  rue  from  the  garden,  which,  being  bruised 
in  a  mortar,  filled  the  room  with  a  fresh,  aromatic  smell.  With  this 
fragrant  herb  she  made  a  cooling  cataplasm.  Having  dressed  my 
arm,  they  placed  it  in  a  sling,  then  in  place  of  my  coat  a  light  Indian 
poncho  was  brought  for  me  to  wear. 

"I  think  you  are  feverish,"  said  Dona  Mercedes,  feeling  my 
pulse.  "We  must  send  for  the  doctor — we  have  a  doctor  in  our  little 
town,  a  very  skilful  man." 

"I  have  little  faith  in  doctors,  senora,"  I  said,  "but  great  faith  in 
women  and  grapes.  If  you  will  give  me  a  cluster  from  your  vine 
to  refresh  my  blood  I  promise  to  be  well  very  soon." 

Dolores  laughed  lightly  and  left  the  room,  only  to  return  in  a 
few  minutes  with  a  dish  full  of  ripe,  purple  clusters.  They  were 

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delicious,  and  did  seem  to  allay  the  fever  I  felt,  which  had  probably 
been  caused  as  much  by  angry  passions  as  by  the  blow  I  had  re- 
ceived. 

While  I  reclined  luxuriously,  sucking  my  grapes,  the  two  ladies 
sat  on  each  side  of  me,  ostensibly  fanning  themselves,  but  only,  I 
think,  trying  to  make  the  air  cooler  for  me.  Very  cool  and  pleasant 
they  made  it,  certainly,  but  the  gentle  attentions  of  Dolores  were  at 
the  same  time  such  as  might  well  create  a  subtler  kind  of  fever  in  a 
man's  veins— a  malady  not  to  be  cured  by  fruit,  fans,  or  phle- 
botomy. 

"Who  would  not  suffer  blows  for  such  compensation  as  this!" 
I  said. 

"Do  not  say  such  a  thing!"  exclaimed  the  senorita,  with  won- 
derful animation.  "Have  you  not  rendered  a  great  service  to  our 
dear  General — to  our  beloved  country!  If  we  had  it  in  our  power 
to  give  you  everything  your  heart  might  desire  it  would  be  nothing, 
nothing.  We  must  be  your  debtors  for  ever." 

I  smiled  at  her  extravagant  words,  but  they  were  very  sweet  to 
hear,  none  the  less. 

"Your  ardent  love  of  your  country  is  a  beautiful  sentiment,"  I 
remarked  somewhat  indiscreetly,  "but  is  General  Santa  Coloma  so 
necessary  to  its  welfare?" 

She  looked  offended  and  did  not  reply.  "You  are  a  stranger  in 
our  country,  senor,  and  do  not  quite  understand  these  things,"  said 
the  mother  gently.  "Dolores  must  not  forget  that.  You  know  noth- 
ing of  the  cruel  wars  we  have  seen  and  how  our  enemies  have  con- 
quered only  by  bringing  in  the  foreigner  to  their  aid.  Ah,  senor,  the 
bloodshed,  the  proscriptions,  the  infamies  which  they  have  brought 
on  this  land !  But  there  is  one  man  they  have  never  yet  succeeded  in 
crushing:  always  from  boyhood  he  has  been  foremost  in  the  fight, 
defying  their  bullets,  and  not  to  be  corrupted  by  their  Brazilian 
gold.  Is  it  strange  that  he  is  so  much  to  us,  who  have  lost  all  our 
relations,  and  have  suffered  many  persecutions,  being  deprived 
almost  of  the  means  of  subsistence  that  hirelings  and  traitors  might 
be  enriched  with  our  property  ?  To  us  in  this  house  he  is  even  more 
than  to  others.  He  was  my  husband's  friend  and  companion  in  arms. 

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He  has  done  us  a  thousand  favours,  and  if  he  ever  succeeds  in  over- 
throwing this  infamous  government  he  will  restore  to  us  all  the 
property  we  have  lost.  But  ai  de  mi,  I  cannot  see  deliverance  yet." 

"Mamita,  do  not  say  such  a  thing!"  exclaimed  her  daughter.  "Do 
you  begin  to  despair  now  when  there  is  most  reason  to  hope?" 

"Child,  what  can  he  do  with  this  handful  of  ill-armed  men?" 
returned  the  mother  sadly.  "He  has  bravely  raised  the  standard,  but 
the  people  do  not  flock  to  it.  Ah,  when  this  revolt  is  crushed,  like 
so  many  others,  we  poor  women  will  only  have  to  lament  for  more 
friends  slain  and  fresh  persecutions."  And  here  she  covered  her  eyes 
with  her  handkerchief. 

Dolores  tossed  her  head  back  and  made  a  sudden  gesture  of  im- 
patience. 

"Do  you,  then,  expect  to  see  a  great  army  formed  before  the 
ink  is  dry  on  the  General's  proclamation  ?  When  Santa  Coloma  was 
a  fugitive  without  a  follower  you  hoped;  now  when  he  is  with  us, 
and  actually  preparing  for  a  march  on  the  capital,  you  begin  to  lose 
heart — I  cannot  understand  it!" 

Dona  Mercedes  rose  without  replying,  and  left  the  room.  The 
lovely  enthusiast  dropped  her  head  on  her  hand,  and  remained 
silent,  taking  no  notice  of  me,  a  cloud  of  sorrow  on  her  countenance. 

"Senorita,"  I  said,  "it  is  not  necessary  for  you  to  remain  longer 
here.  Only  tell  me  before  going  that  you  forgive  me,  for  it  makes 
me  very  unhappy  to  think  that  I  have  offended  you." 

She  turned  to  me  with  a  very  bright  smile  and  gave  me  her 
hand. 

"Ah,  it  is  for  you  to  forgive  me  for  hastily  taking  offence  at  a 
light  word,"  she  said.  "I  must  not  allow  anything  you  say  in  future 
to  spoil  my  gratitude.  Do  you  know  I  think  you  are  one  of  those  who 
like  to  laugh  at  most  things,  senor — no,  let  me  call  you  Richard,  and 
you  shall  call  me  Dolores,  for  we  must  remain  friends  always.  Let  us 
make  a  compact,  then  it  will  be  impossible  for  us  to  quarrel.  You 
shall  be  free  to  doubt,  question,  laugh  at  everything,  except  one 
thing  only — my  faith  in  Santa  Coloma." 

"Yes,  I  will  gladly  make 'that  agreement,"  I  replied.  "It  will  be 

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a  new  kind  of  paradise,  and  of  the  fruit  of  every  tree  I  may  eat 
except  of  this  tree  only." 

She  laughed  gaily. 

"I  will  now  leave  you,"  she  said.  "You  are  suffering  pain,  and 
are  very  tired.  Perhaps  you  will  be  able  to  sleep."  While  speaking 
she  brought  a  second  cushion  for  my  head,  then  left  me,  and  before 
long  I  fell  into  a  refreshing  doze. 

I  spent  three  days  of  enforced  idleness  at  the  Casa  Blanca,  as  the 
house  was  called,  before  Santa  Coloma  returned,  and  after  the  rough 
experience  I  had  undergone,  during  which  I  had  subsisted  on  a 
flesh  diet  untempered  by  bread  or  vegetables,  they  were  indeed  like 
days  spent  in  paradise  to  me.  Then  the  General  came  back.  I  was 
sitting  alone  in  the  garden  when  he  arrived,  and,  coming  out  to  me, 
he  greeted  me  warmly. 

"I  greatly  feared  from  my  previous  experience  of  your  impatience 
under  restraint  that  you  might  have  left  us,"  he  said  kindly. 

"I  could  not  do  that  very  well  yet,  without  a  horse  to  ride  on," 
I  returned. 

"Well,  I  came  here  just  now  to  say  I  wish  to  present  you  with 
a  horse  and  saddle.  The  horse  is  standing  at  the  gate  now,  I  believe; 
but,  if  you  are  only  waiting  for  a  horse  to  leave  us  I  shall  have  to 
regret  making  you  this  present.  Do  not  be  in  a  hurry ;  you  have  yet 
many  years  to  live  in  which  to  accomplish  all  you  wish  to  do,  and 
let  us  have  the  pleasure  of  your  company  a  few  days  longer.  Dona 
Mercedes  and  her  daughter  desire  nothing  better  than  to  keep  you 
with  them." 

I  promised  him  not  to  run  away  immediately,  a  promise  which 
was  not  hard  to  make;  then  we  went  to  inspect  my  horse,  which 
proved  to  be  a  very  fine  bay,  saddled  with  a  dashing  native  recado. 

"Come  with  me  and  try  him,"  he  said.  "I  am  going  to  ride  out 
to  the  Cerro  Solo." 

The  ride  proved  an  extremely  pleasant  one,  as  I  had  not  mounted 
a  horse  for  some  days,  and  had  been  longing  to  spice  my  idle  hours 
with  a  little  exhilarating  motion.  We  went  at  a  swinging  gallop 
over  the  grassy  plain,  the  General  all  the  time  discoursing  freely  of 
his  plans  and  of  the  brilliant  prospects  awaiting  all  those  timely-wise 

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individuals  who  should  elect  to  link  their  fortunes  with  his  at  this 
early  stage  of  the  campaign. 

The  Cerro,  three  leagues  distant  from  the  village  of  El  Molino, 
was  a  high,  conical  hill  standing  quite  alone  and  overlooking  the 
country  for  a  vast  distance  around.  A  few  well-mounted  men  were 
stationed  on  the  summit,  keeping  watch;  and,  after  talking  with 
them  for  a  while,  the  General  led  me  to  a  spot  a  hundred  yards 
away,  where  there  was  a  large  mound  of  sand  and  stone,  up  which 
we  made  our  horses  climb  with  some  difficulty.  While  we  stood 
here  he  pointed  out  the  conspicuous  objects  on  the  surface  of  the 
surrounding  country,  telling  me  the  names  of  the  estancias,  rivers, 
distant  hills,  and  other  things.  The  whole  country  about  us  seemed 
very  familiar  to  him.  He  ceased  speaking  at  length,  but  continued 
gazing  over  the  wide,  sunlit  prospect  with  a  strange,  far-off  look  on 
his  face.  Suddenly  dropping  the  reins  on  the  neck  of  his  horse,  he 
stretched  out  his  arms  towards  the  south  and  began  to  murmur 
words  which  I  could  not  catch,  while  an  expression  of  mingled  fury 
and  exultation  transformed  his  face.  It  passed  away  as  suddenly  as 
it  came.  Then  he  dismounted,  and,  stooping  till  his  knee  touched 
the  ground,  he  kissed  the  rock  before  him,  after  which  he  sat  down 
and  quietly  invited  me  to  do  the  same.  Returning  to  the  subject  he 
had  talked  about  during  our  ride,  he  began  openly  pressing  me  to 
join  him  in  his  march  to  Montevideo,  which,  he  said,  would  begin 
almost  immediately,  and  would  infallibly  result  in  a  victory,  after 
which  he  would  reward  me  for  the  incalculable  service  I  had 
rendered  him  in  assisting  him  to  escape  from  the  Juez  of  Las 
Cuevas.  These  tempting  offers,  which  would  have  fired  my  brain 
in  other  circumstances — the  single  state,  I  mean — I  felt  compelled 
to  decline,  though  I  did  not  state  my  real  reasons  for  doing  so.  He 
shrugged  his  shoulders  in  the  eloquent  Oriental  fashion,  remarking 
that  it  would  not  surprise  him  if  I  altered  my  resolution  in  a  few 
days. 

"Never!"  I  mentally  ejaculated. 

Then  he  recalled  our  first  meeting  again,  spoke  of  Margarita, 
that  marvellously  beautiful  child,  asking  if  I  had  not  thought  it 
strange  so  fair  a  flower  as  that  should  have  sprung  from  the  homely 

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Cfte  purple  LanD 

stalk  of  a  sweet  potato?  I  answered  that  I  had  been  surprised  at 
first,  but  had  ceased  to  believe  that  she  was  a  child  of  Batata's,  or  of 
any  of  his  kin.  He  then  offered  to  tell  me  Margarita's  history;  and 
I  was  not  surprised  to  hear  that  he  knew  it. 

"I  owe  you  this,"  he  said,  "in  expiation  of  the  somewhat  offensive 
remarks  I  addressed  to  you  that  day  in  reference  to  the  girl.  But 
you  must  remember  that  I  was  then  only  Marcos  Marco,  a  peasant, 
and,  having  some  slight  knowledge  of  acting,  it  was  only  natural 
that  my  speech  should  be,  as  you  find  it  in  our  common  people, 
somewhat  dry  and  ironical. 

"Many  years  ago  there  lived  in  this  country  one  Basilic  de  la 
Barca,  a  person  of  so  noble  a  figure  and  countenance  that  to  all 
those  who  beheld  him  he  became  the  type  of  perfect  beauty,  so  that 
a  'Basilio  de  la  Barca'  came  to  be  a  proverbial  expression  in  Monte- 
videan  society  when  anyone  surpassingly  handsome  was  spoken  of. 
Though  he  had  a  gay,  light-hearted  disposition  and  loved  social 
pleasures,  he  was  not  spoilt  by  the  admiration  his  beauty  excited. 
Simple-minded  and  modest  he  remained  always;  though  perhaps 
not  capable  of  any  very  strong  passion,  for  though  he  won,  without 
seeking  it,  the  hearts  of  many  fair  women,  he  did  not  marry.  He 
might  have  married  some  rich  woman  to  improve  his  position  had 
he  been  so  minded,  but  in  this,  as  in  everything  else  in  his  life, 
Basilio  appeared  to  be  incapable  of  doing  anything  to  advance  his 
own  fortunes.  The  de  la  Barcas  had  once  possessed  great  wealth  in 
land  in  the  country,  and,  I  have  heard,  descended  from  an  ancient 
noble  family  of  Spain.  During  the  long,  disastrous  wars  this  country 
has  suffered,  when  it  was  conquered  in  turn  by  England,  Portugal^ 
Spain,  Brazil,  and  the  Argentines,  the  family  became  impoverished, 
and  at  last  appeared  to  be  dying  out.  The  last  of  the  de  la  Barcas  was 
Basilio,  and  the  evil  destiny  which  had  pursued  all  of  that  name  for 
so  many  generations  did  not  spare  him.  His  whole  life  was  a  series 
of  calamities.  When  young  he  entered  the  army,  but  in  his  first 
engagement  he  received  a  terrible  wound  which  disabled  him  for 
life  and  compelled  him  to  abandon  the  military  career.  After  that 
he  embarked  all  his  little  fortune  in  commerce,  and  was  ruined  by 
a  dishonest  partner.  At  length  when  he  had  been  reduced  to  great; 

121 


C&e  purple  JLanD 

poverty,  being  then  about  forty  years  old,  he  married  an  old  woman 
out  of  gratitude  for  the  kindness  she  had  shown  to  him;  and  with 
her  he  went  to  live  on  the  sea-coast,  several  leagues  east  of  Cabo 
Santa  Maria.  Here  in  a  small  rancho  in  a  lonely  spot  called  Barranca 
del  Peregrino,  and  with  only  a  few  sheep  and  cows  to  subsist  on,  he 
spent  the  remainder  of  his  life.  His  wife,  though  old,  bore  him  one 
child,  a  daughter,  named  Transita.  They  taught  her  nothing;  for  in 
all  respects  they  lived  like  peasants  and  had  forgotten  the  use  of 
books.  The  situation  was  also  wild  and  solitary,  and  they  very 
seldom  saw  a  strange  face.  Transita  spent  her  childhood  in  rambling 
over  the  dunes  on  that  lonely  coast,  with  only  wild  flowers,  birds, 
and  the  ocean  waves  for  playmates.  One  day,  her  age  being  then 
about  eleven,  she  was  at  her  usual  pastimes,  her  golden  hair  blowing 
in  the  wind,  her  short  dress  and  bare  legs  wet  with  the  spray, 
chasing  the  waves  as  they  retired,  or  flying  with  merry  shouts  from 
them  as  they  hurried  back  towards  the  shore,  flinging  a  cloud  of 
foam  over  her  retreating  form,  when  a  youth,  a  boy  of  fifteen,  rode 
up  and  saw  her  there.  He  was  hunting  ostriches,  when,  losing  sight 
of  his  companions,  and  finding  himself  near  the  ocean,  he  rode 
down  to  the  shore  to  watch  the  tide  coming  in. 

"Yes,  I  was  that  boy,  Richard — you  are  quick  in  making  con- 
clusions." This  he  said  not  in  reply  to  any  remark  I  had  made,  but 
to  my  thoughts,  which  he  frequently  guessed  very  aptly. 

"The  impression  this  exquisite  child  made  on  me  it  would  be 
impossible  to  convey  in  words.  I  had  lived  much  in  the  capital,  had 
been  educated  in  our  best  college,  and  was  accustomed  to  associate 
with  pretty  women.  I  had  also  crossed  the  water  and  had  seen  all 
that  was  most  worthy  of  admiration  in  the  Argentine  cities.  And 
remember  that  with  us  a  youth  of  fifteen  already  knows  something 
of  life.  This  child,  playing  with  the  waves,  was  like  nothing  I  had 
seen  before.  I  regarded  her  not  as  a  mere  human  creature;  she 
seemed  more  like  some  being  from  I  know  not  what  far-off  celestial 
region  who  had  strayed  to  earth,  just  as  a  bird  of  white  and  azure 
plumage,  and  unknown  to  our  woods,  sometimes  appears,  blown 
hither  from  a  distant  tropical  country  or  island,  filling  those  who 
see  it  with  wonder  and  delight.  Imagine,  if  you  can,  Margarita 

122 


Cfte  purple  JLana 

with  her  shining  hair  loose  to  the  winds,  swift  and  graceful  in  her 
motions  as  the  waves  she  plays  with,  her  sapphire  eyes  sparkling  like 
sunlight  on  the  waters,  the  tender  tints  of  the  sea-shell  in  her  ever- 
changing  countenance,  with  a  laughter  that  seems  to  echo  the  wild 
melody  of  the  sandpiper's  note.  Margarita  has  inherited  the  form, 
not  the  spirit,  of  the  child  Transita.  She  is  an  exquisite  statue  en- 
dowed with  life.  Transita,  with  lines  equally  graceful  and  colours 
just  as  perfect,  had  caught  the  spirit  of  the  wind  and  sunshine  and 
was  all  freedom,  motion,  fire — a  being  half  human,  half  angelic.  I 
saw  her  only  to  love  her;  nor  was  it  a  common  passion  she  inspired 
in  me.  I  worshipped  her,  and  longed  to  wear  her  on  my  bosom; 
but  I  shrank  then  and  for  a  long  time  after  from  breathing  the  hot 
breath  of  love  on  so  tender  and  heavenly  a  blossom.  I  went  to  her 
parents  and  opened  my  heart  to  them.  My  family  being  well  known 
to  Basilio,  I  obtained  his  consent  to  visit  their  lonely  rancho  when- 
ever I  could;  and  I,  on  my  part,  promised  not  to  speak  of  love  to 
Transita  till  her  sixteenth  year.  Three  years  after  I  had  found  Tran- 
sita, I  was  ordered  to  a  distant  part  of  the  country,  for  I  was  already 
in  the  army  then,  and,  fearing  that  it  would  not  be  possible  for  me 
to  visit  them  for  a  long  time,  I  persuaded  Basilio  to  let  me  speak  to 
his  daughter,  who  was  now  fourteen.  She  had  by  this  time  grown 
extremely  fond  of  me,  and  she  always  looked  forward  with  delight 
to  my  visits,  when  we  would  spend  days  together  rambling  along 
the  shore,  or  seated  on  some  cliff  overlooking  the  sea,  talking  of  the 
simple  things  she  knew,  and  of  that  wonderful,  far-away  city  life 
of  which  she  was  never  tired  of  hearing.  When  I  opened  my  heart 
to  her  she  was  at  first  frightened  at  these  new  strange  emotions  I 
spoke  of.  Soon,  however,  I  was  made  happy  by  seeing  her  fear  grow 
less.  In  one  day  she  ceased  to  be  a  child ;  the  rich  blood  mantled  her 
cheeks,  to  leave  her  the  next  moment  pale  and  tremulous;  her 
tender  lips  were  toying  with  the  rim  of  the  honeyed  cup.  Before  I 
left  her  she  had  promised  me  her  hand,  and  at  parting  even  clung 
to  me,  with  her  beautiful  eyes  wet  with  tears. 

"Three  years  passed  before  I  returned  to  seek  her.  During  that 
time  I  sent  scores  of  letters  to  Basilio,  but  received  no  reply.  Twice 
I  was  wounded  in  fight,  once  very  seriously.  I  was  also  a  prisoner 

123 


Cfte  Purple  JLanD 

for  several  months.  I  made  my  escape  at  last,  and,  returning  to 
Montevideo,  obtained  leave  of  absence.  Then,  with  heart  afire  with 
sweet  anticipations,  I  sought  that  lonely  sea-coast  once  more,  only 
to  find  the  weeds  growing  on  the  spot  where  Basilio's  rancho  had 
stood.  In  the  neighbourhood  I  learnt  that  he  had  died  two  years 
before,  and  that  after  his  death  the  widow  had  returned  to  Monte- 
video with  Transita.  After  long  inquiry  in  that  city  I  discovered  that 
she  had  not  long  survived  her  husband,  and  that  a  foreign  seiiora, 
had  taken  Transita  away,  no  one  knew  whither.  Her  loss  cast  a 
great  shadow  on  my  life.  Poignant  grief  cannot  endure  for  ever,  nor 
for  very  long;  only  the  memory  of  grief  endures.  To  this  memory, 
which  cannot  fade,  it  is  perhaps  due  that  in  one  respect  at  least  I 
am  not  like  other  men.  I  feel  that  I  am  incapable  of  passion  for  any 
woman.  No,  not  if  a  new  Lucrezia  Borgia  were  to  come  my  way, 
scattering  the  fiery  seeds  of  adoration  upon  all  men,  could  they 
blossom  to  love  in  this  arid  heart.  Since  I  lost  Transita  I  have  had 
one  thought,  one  love,  one  religion,  and  it  is  all  told  in  one  word — 
Patria. 

"Years  passed.  I  was  captain  in  General  Oribe's  army  at  the  siege 
of  my  own  city.  One  day  a  lad  was  captured  in  our  lines,  and  came 
very  near  being  put  to  death  a§  a  spy.  He  had  come  out  from 
Montevideo,  and  was  looking  for  me.  He  had  been  sent,  he  said,  by 
Transita  de  la  Barca,  who  was  lying  ill  in  the  town,  and  desired  to 
speak  to  me  before  she  died.  I  asked  and  obtained  permission  from 
our  General,  who  had  a  strong  personal  friendship  for  me,  to  pene- 
trate into  the  town.  This  was,  of  course,  dangerous,  and  more  so 
for  me,  perhaps,  than  it  would  have  been  for  many  of  my  brother 
officers,  for  I  was  very  well  known  to  the  besieged.  I  succeeded, 
however,  by  persuading  the  officers  of  a  French  sloop  of  war,  sta- 
tioned in  the  harbour,  to  assist  me.  These  foreigners  at  that  time 
had  friendly  relations  with  the  officers  of  both  armies,  and  three  of 
them  had  at  one  time  visited  our  General  to  ask  him  to  let  them 
hunt  ostriches  in  the  interior.  He  passed  them  on  to  me,  and,  taking 
them  to  my  own  estancia,  I  entertained  them  and  hunted  with  them 
for  several  days.  For  this  hospitality  they  had  expressed  themselves 
very  grateful,  inviting  me  repeatedly  to  visit  them  on  board,  and 

124 


Cfte  purple  Land 

also  saying  that  they  would  gladly  do  me  any  personal  service  in 
the  town,  which  they  visited  constantly.  I  love  not  the  French, 
believing  them  to  be  the  most  vain  and  egotistical,  consequently  the 
least  chivalrous,  of  mankind ;  but  these  officers  were  in  my  debt,  and 
I  resolved  to  ask  them  to  help  me.  Under  cover  of  night  I  went  on 
board  their  ship;  I  told  them  my  story,  and  asked  them  to  take  me 
on  shore  with  them  disguised  as  one  of  themselves.  With  some  diffi- 
culty they  consented,  and  I  was  thus  enabled  next  day  to  be  in 
Montevideo  and  with  my  long-lost  Transita.  I  found  her  lying  on 
her  bed,  emaciated  and  white  as  death,  in  the  last  stage  of  some  fatal 
pulmonary  complaint.  On  the  bed  with  her  was  a  child  between 
two  and  three  years  old,  exceedingly  beautiful  like  her  mother,  for 
one  glance  was  sufficient  to  tell  me  it  was  Transita's  child.  Over- 
come with  grief  at  finding  her  in  this  pitiful  condition,  I  could  only 
kneel  at  her  side,  pouring  out  the  last  tender  tears  that  have  fallen 
from  these  eyes.  We  Orientals  are  not  tearless  men,  and  I  have  wept 
since  then,  but  only  with  rage  and  hatred.  My  last  tears  of  tender- 
ness were  shed  over  unhappy,  dying  Transita. 

"Briefly  she  told  me  her  story.  No  letter  from  me  had  ever 
reached  Basilio;  it  was  supposed  that  I  had  fallen  in  battle,  or  that 
my  heart  had  changed.  When  her  mother  lay  dying  in  Montevideo 
she  was  visited  by  a  wealthy  Argentine  lady  named  Romero,  who 
had  heard  of  Transita's  singular  beauty,  and  wished  to  see  her 
merely  out  of  curiosity.  She  was  so  charmed  with  the  girl  that  she 
offered  to  take  her  and  bring  her  up  as  her  own  daughter.  To  this 
the  mother,  who  was  reduced  to  the  greatest  poverty  and  was  dying, 
consented  gladly.  Transita  was  in  this  way  taken  to  Buenos  Ayres, 
where  she  had  masters  to  instruct  her,  and  lived  in  great  splendour. 
The  novelty  of  this  life  charmed  her  for  a  time;  the  pleasures  of  a 
large  city,  and  the  universal  admiration  her  beauty  excited,  occupied 
her  mind  and  made  her  happy.  When  she  was  seventeen  the  Senora 
Romero  bestowed  her  hand  on  a  young  man  of  that  city,  named 
Andrada,  a  wealthy  person.  He  was  a  fashionable  man,  a  gambler, 
and  a  Sybarite,  and,  having  conceived  a  violent  passion  for  the  girl, 
he  succeeded  in  winning  over  the  senora  to  aid  his  suit.  Before 
marrying  him  Transita  told  him  frankly  that  she  felt  incapable  of 

125 


Cfte  purple 

great  affection  for  him;  he  cared  nothing  for  that,  he  only  wished, 
like  the  animal  he  was,  to  possess  her  for  her  beauty.  Shortly  after 
marrying  her  he  took  her  to  Europe,  knowing  very  well  that  a  man 
with  a  full  purse,  and  whose  spirit  is  a  compound  of  swine  and  goat, 
finds  life  pleasanter  in  Paris  than  in  the  Plata.  In  Paris  Transita 
lived  a  gay,  but  an  unhappy  life.  Her  husband's  passion  for  her  soon 
passed  away,  and  was  succeeded  by  neglect  and  insult.  After  three 
miserable  years  he  abandoned  her  altogether  to  live  with  another 
woman,  and  then,  in  broken  health,  she  returned  with  her  child  to 
her  own  country.  When  she  had  been  several  months  in  Monte- 
video she  heard  casually  that  I  was  still  alive  and  in  the  besieging 
army;  and,  anxious  to  impart  her  last  wishes  to  a  friend,  had  sent 
for  me. 

"Could  you,  my  friend,  could  any  man,  divine  the  nature  of  that 
dying  request  Transita  wished  to  make  ? 

"Pointing  to  her  child,  she  said,  'Do  you  not  see  that  Margarita 
inherits  that  fatal  gift  of  beauty  which  won  for  me  a  life  of  splen- 
dour, with  extreme  bitterness  of  heart  and  early  death  ?  Soon,  before 
I  die,  perhaps,  there  will  not  be  wanting  some  new  Senora  Romero 
to  take  charge  of  her,  who  will  at  last  sell  her  to  some  rich,  cruel 
man,  as  I  was  sold ;  for  how  can  her  beauty  remain  long  concealed  ? 
It  was  with  very  different  views  for  her  that  I  secretly  left  Paris  and 
returned  here.  During  all  the  miserable  years  I  spent  there  I  thought 
more  and  more  of  my  childhood  on  that  lonely  coast,  until,  when 
I  fell  ill,  I  resolved  to  go  back  there  to  spend  my  last  days  on  that 
beloved  spot  where  I  had  been  so  happy.  It  was  my  intention  to  find 
some  peasant  family  there  who  would  be  willing  to  take  Margarita 
and  bring  her  up  as  a  peasant's  child,  with  no  knowledge  of  her 
father's  position  and  of  the  life  men  live  in  towns.  The  siege  and 
my  failing  health  made  it  impossible  for  me  to  carry  out  that  plan. 
I  must  die  here,  dear  friend,  and  never  see  that  lonely  coast  where 
we  have  sat  together  so  often  watching  the  waves.  But  I  think  only 
of  poor  little  Margarita  now,  who  will  soon  be  motherless :  will  you 
not  help  me  to  save  her  ?  Promise  me  that  you  will  take  her  away  to 
some  distant  place,  where  she  will  be  brought  up  as  a  peasant's 
child,  and  where  her  father  will  never  find  her.  If  you  can  promise 

126 


Cfte  Ipurple  LanD 


me  this,  I  will  resign  her  to  you  now,  and  face  death  without  even 
the  sad  consolation  of  seeing  her  by  me  to  the  last.' 

"I  promised  to  carry  out  her  wishes,  and  also  to  see  the  child  as 
often  as  circumstances  would  allow,  and  when  she  grew  up  to  find 
her  a  good  husband.  But  I  would  not  deprive  her  of  the  child  then. 
I  told  her  that  if  she  died,  Margarita  would  be  conveyed  to  the 
French  ship  in  the  harbour,  and  afterwards  to  me,  and  that  I  knew 
where  to  place  her  with  good-hearted,  simple  peasants  who  loved 
me,  and  would  obey  my  wishes  in  all  things. 

"She  was  satisfied,  and  I  left  her  to  make  the  necessary  arrange- 
ments to  carry  out  my  plans.  A  few  weeks  later  Transita  expired, 
and  the  child  was  brought  to  me.  I  then  sent  her  to  Batata's  house, 
where,  ignorant  of  the  secret  of  her  birth,  she  has  been  brought  up 
as  her  mother  wished  her  to  be.  May  she  never,  like  the  unhappy 
Transita,  fall  into  the  power  of  a  ravening  beast  in  man's  shape." 

"Amen!"  I  exclaimed.  "But  surely,  if  this  child  will  be  entitled 
to  a  fortune  some  day,  it  will  only  be  right  that  she  should  have  it." 

"We  do  not  worship  gold  in  this  country,"  he  replied.  "With  us 
the  poor  are  just  as  happy  as  the  rich,  their  wants  are  so  few,  and 
easily  satisfied.  It  would  be  too  much  to  say  that  I  love  the  child 
more  than  I  love  anyone  else  ;  I  think  only  of  Transita's  wishes  ;  that 
for  me  is  the  only  right  in  the  matter.  Had  I  failed  to  carry  them 
out  to  the  letter,  then  I  should  have  suffered  a  great  remorse.  Pos- 
sibly I  may  encounter  Andrada  some  day,  and  pass  my  sword 
through  his  body;  that  would  give  me  no  remorse." 

After  some  moments  of  silence  he  looked  up  and  said,  "Richard, 
you  admired  and  loved  that  beautiful  girl  when  you  first  saw  her. 
Listen,  if  you  wish  it  you  shall  have  her  for  a  wife.  She  is  simple- 
minded,  ignorant  of  the  world,  affectionate,  and  where  she  is  told 
to  love  she  will  love.  Batata's  people  will  obey  my  wishes  in  every- 
thing." 

I  shook  my  head,  smiling  somewhat  sorrowfully  when  I  thought 
that  the  events  of  the  last  few  days  had  already  half  obliterated 
Margarita's  fair  image  from  my  mind.  This  unexpected  proposition 
had,  moreover,  forced  on  me,  with  a  startling  suddenness,  the  fact 
that  by  once  performing  the  act  of  marriage  a  man  has  for  ever  used 

127 


Cfte  purple  Lanfl 

up  the  most  glorious  privilege  of  his  sex — of  course,  I  mean  in  coun- 
tries where  he  is  only  allowed  to  have  one  wife.  It  was  no  longer  in 
my  power  to  say  to  any  woman,  however  charming  I  might  find 
her,  "Be  my  wife."  But  I  did  not  explain  all  this  to  the  General. 
"Ah,  you  are  thinking  of  conditions,"  said  he;  "there  will  be 


none." 


"No,  you  have  guessed  wrong — for  once,"  I  returned.  "The  girl 
is  all  you  say;  I  have  never  seen  a  being  more  beautiful,  and  I  have 
never  heard  a  more  romantic  story  than  the  one  you  have  just  told 
me  about  her  birth.  I  can  only  echo  your  prayer  that  she  may  not 
suffer  as  her  mother  did.  In  name  she  is  not  a  de  la  Barca,  and 
perhaps  destiny  will  spare  her  on  that  account." 

He  glanced  keenly  at  me  and  smiled.  "Perhaps  you  are  thinking 
more  of  Dolores  than  of  Margarita  just  now,"  he  said.  "Let  me  warn 
you  of  your  danger  there,  my  young  friend.  She  is  already  promised 
to  another." 

Absurdly  unreasonable  as  it  may  seem,  I  felt  a  jealous  pang  at 
that  information;  but  then,  of  course,  we  are  not  reasonable  beings, 
whatever  the  philosophers  say. 

I  laughed,  not  very  gaily,  I  must  confess,  and  answered  that  there 
was  no  need  to  warn  me,  as  Dolores  would  never  be  more  to  me 
than  a  very  dear  friend. 

Even  then  I  did  not  tell  him  that  I  was  a  married  man;  for  often 
in  the  Banda  Oriental  I  did  not  quite  seem  to  know  how  to  mix  my 
truth  and  lies,  and  so  preferred  to  hold  my  tongue.  In  this  instance, 
as  subsequent  events  proved,  I  held  it  not  wisely  but  too  well.  The 
open  man,  with  no  secrets  from  the  world,  often  enough  escapes 
disasters  which  overtake  your  very  discreet  person,  who  acts  on  the 
old  adage  that  speech  was  given  to  us  to  conceal  our  thoughts. 


128 


Cbe  Purple  ILanD 


CHAPTER  XVII 

WITH  a  horse  to  travel  on,  and  my  arm  so  much  better 
that  the  sling  supporting  it  was  worn  rather  for  orna- 
ment than  use,  there  was  nothing  except  that  promise 
not  to  run  away  immediately  to  detain  me  longer  in  the  pleasant 
retreat  of  the  Casa  Blanca;  nothing,  that  is,  had  I  been  a  man  of 
gutta-percha  or  cast-iron;  being  only  a  creature  of  clay — very  im- 
pressionable clay  as  it  happened — I  could  not  persuade  myself  that 
I  was  quite  well  enough  to  start  on  that  long  ride  over  a  disturbed 
country.  Besides,  my  absence  from  Montevideo  had  already  lasted  so 
long  that  a  few  days  more  could  not  make  much  difference  one  way 
or  the  other;  thus  it  came  to  pass  that  I  still  stayed  on,  enjoying  the 
society  of  my  new  friends,  while  every  day,  every  hour  in  fact,  I  felt 
less  able  to  endure  the  thought  of  tearing  myself  away  from  Dolores. 
Much  of  my  time  was  spent  in  the  pleasant  orchard  adjoining 
the  house.  Here,  growing  in  picturesque  irregularity,  were  fifty  or 
sixty  old  peach,  nectarine,  apricot,  plum,  and  cherry  trees,  their 
boles  double  the  thickness  of  a  man's  thigh;  they  had  never  been 
disfigured  by  the  pruner's  knife  or  saw,  and  their  enormous  size 
and  rough  bark,  overgrown  with  grey  lichen,  gave  them  an  appear- 
ance of  great  antiquity.  All  about  the  ground,  tangled  together  in 
a  pretty  confusion,  flourished  many  of  those  dear  familiar  Old 
World  garden  flowers  that  spring  up  round  the  white  man's  dwell- 
ing in  all  temperate  regions  of  the  earth.  Here  were  immemorial 
wallflowers,  stocks  and  marigolds,  tall  hollyhock,  gay  poppy,  bril- 
liant bachelor's  button ;  also,  half  hid  amongst  the  grass,  pansy  and 
forget-me-not.  The  larkspur,  red,  white,  and  blue,  flaunted  every- 
where; and  here,  too,  was  the  unforgotten  sweet-william,  looking 
bright  and  velvety  as  of  yore,  yet,  in  spite  of  its  brightness  and  stiff, 
green  collar,  still  wearing  the  old  shame-faced  expression,  as  if  it 

129 


Cfte  purple  HanD 

felt  a  little  ashamed  of  its  own  pretty  name.  These  flowers  were  not 
cultivated,  but  grew  spontaneously  from  the  seed  they  shed  year  by 
year  on  the  ground,  the  gardener  doing  nothing  for  them  beyond 
keeping  the  weeds  down  and  bestowing  a  little  water  in  hot 
weather.  The  solstitial  heats  being  now  over,  during  which  Euro- 
pean garden  flowers  cease  to  bloom  for  a  season,  they  were  again 
in  gayest  livery  to  welcome  the  long  second  spring  of  autumn, 
lasting  from  February  to  May.  At  the  farther  end  of  this  wilderness 
of  flowers  and  fruit  trees  was  an  aloe  hedge,  covering  a  width  of 
twenty  to  thirty  yards  with  its  enormous,  disorderly,  stave-like 
leaves.  This  hedge  was  like  a  strip  of  wild  nature  placed  alongside 
of  a  plot  of  man's  improved  nature;  and  here,  like  snakes  hunted 
from  the  open,  the  weeds  and  wildings  which  were  not  permitted 
to  mix  with  the  flowers  had  taken  refuge.  Protected  by  that  rude 
bastion  of  spikes,  the  hemlock  opened  feathery  clusters  of  dark 
leaves  and  whitish  umbels  wherever  it  could  reach  up  to  the  sun- 
shine. There  also  grew  the  nightshade,  with  other  solanaceous 
weeds,  bearing  little  clusters  of  green  and  purple  berries,  wild  oats, 
fox-tail  grass,  and  nettles.  The  hedge  gave  them  shelter,  but  no 
moisture,  so  that  all  these  weeds  and  grasses  had  a  somewhat  forlorn 
and  starved  appearance,  climbing  up  with  long  stringy  stems  among 
the  powerful  aloes.  The  hedge  was  also  rich  in  animal  life.  There 
dwelt  mice,  cavies,  and  elusive  little  lizards;  crickets  sang  all  day 
long  under  it,  while  in  every  open  space  the  green  epeiras  spread 
their  geometric  webs.  Being  rich  in  spiders,  it  was  a  favourite 
hunting-ground  of  those  insect  desperadoes,  the  mason-wasps,  that 
flew  about  loudly  buzzing  in  their  splendid  gold  and  scarlet  uni- 
form. There  were  also  many  little  shy  birds  here,  and  my  favourite 
was  the  wren,  for  in  its  appearance  and  its  scolding,  jerky,  gesticulat- 
ing ways  it  is  precisely  like  our  house-wren,  though  it  has  a  richer 
and  more  powerful  song  than  the  English  bird.  On  the  other  side 
of  the  hedge  was  the  potrero,  or  paddock,  where  a  milch-cow  with 
two  or  three  horses  were  kept.  The  manservant,  whose  name  was 
Nepomucino,  presided  over  orchard  and  paddock,  also  to  some 
extent  over  the  entire  establishment.  Nepomucino  was  a  pure  negro, 
a  little  old  round-headed,  blear-eyed  man,  about  five  feet  four  in 

130 


Cfte  purple  JLanD 

height,  the  short  lumpy  wool  on  his  head  quite  grey ;  slow  in  speech 
and  movements,  his  old  black  or  chocolate-coloured  fingers  all 
crooked,  stiff -jointed,  and  pointing  spontaneously  in  different  direc- 
tions. I  have  never  seen  anything  in  the  human  subject  to  equal  the 
dignity  of  Nepomucino,  the  profound  gravity  of  his  bearing  and 
expression  forcibly  reminding  one  of  an  owl.  Apparently  he  had 
come  to  look  upon  himself  as  the  sole  head  and  master  of  the  estab- 
lishment, and  the  sense  of  responsibility  had  more  than  steadied 
him.  The  negrine  propensity  to  frequent  explosions  of  inconsequent 
laughter  was  not,  of  course,  to  be  expected  in  such  a  sober-minded 
person;  but  he  was,  I  think,  a  little  too  sedate  for  a  black,  for, 
although  his  face  would  shine  on  warm  days  like  polished  ebony,  it 
did  not  smile.  Everyone  in  the  house  conspired  to  keep  up  the 
fiction  of  Nepomucino's  importance;  they  had,  in  fact,  conspired  so 
long  and  so  well,  that  it  had  very  nearly  ceased  to  be  a  fiction. 
Everybody  addressed  him  with  grave  respect.  Not  a  syllable  of  his 
long  name  was  ever  omitted — what  the  consequences  of  calling  him 
Nepo,  or  Cino,  or  Cinito,  the  affectionate  diminutive,  would  have 
been  I  am  unable  to  say,  since  I  never  had  the  courage  to  try  the 
experiment.  It  often  amused  me  to  hear  Dona  Mercedes  calling  to 
him  from  the  house,  and  throwing  the  whole  emphasis  on  the  last 
syllable  in  a  long,  piercing  crescendo:  "Ne — po — mu — ci — no — o." 
Sometimes,  when  I  sat  in  the  orchard,  he  would  come,  and,  placing 
himself  before  me,  discourse  gravely  about  things  in  general,  clip- 
ping his  words  and  substituting  r  for  1  in  the  negro  fashion,  which 
made  it  hard  for  me  to  repress  a  smile.  After  winding  up  with  a 
few  appropriate  moral  reflections  he  would  finish  with  the  remark : 
"For  though  I  am  black  on  the  surface,  senor,  my  heart  is  white"; 
and  then  he  would  impressively  lay  one  of  his  old  crooked  fingers 
on  the  part  where  the  physiological  curiosity  was  supposed  to  be. 
He  did  not  like  being  told  to  perform  menial  offices,  preferring  to 
anticipate  all  requests  of  that  kind  and  do  whatever  was  necessary 
by  stealth.  Sometimes  I  would  forget  this  peculiarity  of  the  old 
black,  and  tell  him  that  I  wanted  him  to  polish  my  boots.  He  would 
ignore  the  request  altogether,  and  talk  for  a  few  minutes  of  political 
matters,  or  on  the  uncertainty  of  all  things  mundane,  and  by  and 

131 


Cfje  purple  JLanD 

by,  glancing  at  my  boots,  would  remark  incidentally  that  they 
required  polishing,  offering  somewhat  ostentatiously  to  have  them 
done  for  me.  Nothing  would  make  him  admit  that  he  did  these 
things  himself.  Once  I  tried  to  amuse  Dolores  by  mimicking  his 
speech  to  her,  but  quickly  she  silenced  me,  saying  that  she  loved 
Nepomucino  too  well  to  allow  even  her  best  friend  to  laugh  at  him. 
He  had  been  born  when  blacks  were  slaves  in  the  service  of  her 
family,  had  carried  her  in  his  arms  when  she  was  an  infant,  and 
had  seen  all  the  male  members  of  the  house  of  Zelaya  swept  away 
in  the  wars  of  Reds  and  Whites;  but  in  the  days  of  their  adversity 
his  faithful,  dog-like  affection  had  never  failed  them.  It  was  beauti- 
ful to  see  her  manner  towards  him.  If  she  wanted  a  rose  for  her 
hair  or  dress  she  would  not  pluck  it  herself  or  allow  me  to  get  it 
for  her,  but  Nepomucino  must  be  asked  to  get  it.  Then  every  day 
she  would  find  time  to  sit  down  in  the  garden  by  his  side  to  tell  him 
all  the  news  of  the  village  and  of  the  country  at  large,  discuss  the 
position  of  affairs  with  him,  and  ask  his  advice  about  everything  in 
the  house. 

Indoors  or  out  I  generally  had  Dolores  for  a  companion,  and  I 
could  certainly  not  have  had  a  more  charming  one.  The  civil  war- 
though  the  little  splutter  on  the  Yi  scarcely  deserved  that  name  yet 
— was  her  unfailing  theme.  She  was  never  weary  of  singing  her 
hero  Santa  Coloma's  praises — his  dauntless  courage  and  patience  in 
defeat;  his  strange  romantic  adventures;  the  innumerable  disguises 
and  stratagems  he  had  resorted  to  when  going  about  in  his  own 
country,  where  a  price  was  set  on  his  head;  ever  labouring  to  infuse 
fresh  valour  into  his  beaten,  disheartened  followers.  That  the  gov- 
erning party  had  any  right  to  be  in  power,  or  possessed  any  virtue 
of  any  kind,  or  were,  in  fact,  anything  but  an  incubus  and  a  curse 
to  the  Banda  Oriental,  she  would  not  for  one  moment  admit.  To 
her  mind  her  country  always  appeared  like  Andromeda  bound  on 
her  rock  and  left  weeping  and  desolate  to  be  a  prey  to  the  abhorred 
Colorado  monster ;  while  ever  to  the  deliverance  of  this  lovely  being 
came  her  glorious  Perseus,  swift  as  the  winds  of  heaven,  the  light- 
nings of  terrible  vengeance  flashing  from  his  eyes,  the  might  of  the 
immortals  in  his  strong  right  arm.  Often  she  tried  to  persuade  me 

132 


Cfte  purple  LanD 

to  join  this  romantic  adventurer,  and  it  was  hard,  very  hard,  to  resist 
her  eloquent  appeals,  and  perhaps  it  grew  harder  every  day  as  the 
influence  of  her  passionate  beauty  strengthened  itself  upon  my  heart. 
Invariably  I  took  refuge  in  the  argument  that  I  was  a  foreigner,  that 
I  loved  my  country  with  an  ardour  equal  to  hers,  and  that  by  taking 
arms  in  the  Banda  Oriental  I  should  at  once  divest  myself  of  all  an 
Englishman's  rights  and  privileges.  She  scarcely  had  patience  to 
listen  to  this  argument,  it  seemed  so  trivial  to  her,  and  when  she 
demanded  other  better  reasons  I  had  none  to  offer.  I  dare  not  quote 
to  her  the  words  of  sulky  Achilles: 

The  distant  Trojans  never  injured  me, 

for  that  argument  would  have  sounded  even  weaker  to  her  than  the 
former  one.  She  had  never  read  Homer  in  any  language,  of  course, 
but  she  would  have  quickly  made  me  tell  her  about  Achilles,  and 
when  the  end  came,  with  miserable  Hector  dragged  thrice  round 
the  walls  of  besieged  Troy — Montevideo  was  called  Modern  Troy, 
she  knew — then  she  would  have  turned  my  argument  against  me 
and  bidden  me  go  and  serve  the  Uruguayan  President  as  Achilles 
served  Hector.  Seeing  me  silent,  she  would  turn  indignantly  away 
only  for  a  moment,  however;  the  bright  smile  would  quickly  return, 
and  she  would  exclaim,  "No,  no,  Richard,  I  shall  not  forget  my 
promise,  though  I  sometimes  think  you  try  to  make  me  do  so." 

It  was  noon:  the  house  was  quiet,  for  Dona  Mercedes  had  retired 
after  breakfast  to  take  her  unfailing  siesta,  leaving  us  to  our  con- 
versation. In  that  spacious,  cool  room  where  I  had  first  reposed  in 
the  house,  I  was  lying  on  the  sofa  smoking  a  cigarette.  Dolores, 
seating  herself  near  me  with  her  guitar,  said,  "Now  let  me  play  and 
sing  you  to  sleep  with  something  very  soft."  But  the  more  she 
played  and  sang  the  further  was  I  from  un-needed  slumber. 

"What,  not  sleeping  yet,  Richard!"  she  would  say,  with  a  little 
laugh  after  each  song. 

"Not  yet,  Dolores,"  I  would  reply,  pretending  to  get  drowsy. 
"But  my  eyes  are  getting  heavy  now.  One  more  song  will  send  me 
to  the  region  of  dreams.  Sing  me  that  sweet  favourite — 

Desde  aquel  doloroso  momenta" 


Cfte  Purple  JLanD 

At  length,  finding  that  my  sleepiness  was  all  pretence,  she  re- 
fused to  sing  any  more,  and  presently  we  drifted  once  more  into  the 
old  subject. 

"Ah,  yes,"  she  replied  to  that  argument  about  my  nationality, 
which  was  my  only  shield,  "I  have  always  been  taught  to  believe 
foreigners  a  cold,  practical,  calculating  kind  of  people — so  different 
from  us.  You  never  seemed  to  me  like  a  foreigner ;  ah,  Richard,  why 
will  you  make  me  remember  that  you  are  not  one  of  us!  Tell  me, 
dear  friend,  if  a  beautiful  woman  cried  out  to  you  to  deliver  her 
from  some  great  misfortune  or  danger,  would  you  stop  to  ask  her 
nationality  before  going  to  her  rescue?" 

"No,  Dolores ;  you  know  that  if  you,  for  instance,  were  in  distress 
or  danger  I  would  fly  to  your  side  and  risk  my  life  to  save  you." 

"I  believe  you,  Richard.  But  tell  me,  is  it  less  noble  to  help  a 
suffering  people  cruelly  oppressed  by  wicked  men  who  have  suc- 
ceeded by  crimes  and  treachery  and  foreign  aid  in  climbing  into 
power?  Will  you  tell  me  that  no  Englishman  has  drawn  a  sword 
in  a  cause  like  that?  Oh,  friend,  is  not  my  mother-country  more 
beautiful  and  worthy  to  be  helped  than  any  woman  ?  Has  not  God 
given  her  spiritual  eyes  that  shed  tears  and  look  for  comfort;  lips 
sweeter  than  any  woman's  lips,  that  cry  bitterly  every  day  for  de- 
liverance? Can  you  look  on  the  blue  skies  above  you  and  walk  on 
the  green  grass  where  the  white  and  purple  flowers  smile  up  at  you 
and  be  deaf  and  blind  to  her  beauty  and  to  her  great  need  ?  Oh,  no, 
no,  it  is  impossible!" 

"Ah,  if  you  were  a  man,  Dolores,  what  a  flame  you  would  kindle 
in  the  hearts  of  your  countrymen!" 

"Yes,  if  I  were  a  man!"  she  exclaimed,  starting  to  her  feet;  "then 
I  should  serve  my  country  not  with  words  only;  then  I  would  strike 
and  bleed  for  her — how  willingly!  Being  only  a  weak  woman,  I 
would  give  my  heart's  blood  to  win  one  arm  to  aid  in  the  sacred 


cause." 


She  stood  before  me  with  flashing  eyes,  her  face  glowing  with 
enthusiasm ;  then  I  also  rose  to  my  feet  and  took  her  hands  in  mine, 
for  I  was  intoxicated  with  her  loveliness  and  almost  ready  to  throw 
all  restraints  to  the  winds. 

134 


Cfte  Purple  ILanD 

"Dolores,"  I  said,  "are  not  your  words  extravagant?  Shall  I  test 
their  sincerity?  Tell  me,  would  you  give  even  as  much  as  one  kiss 
with  your  sweet  lips  to  win  a  strong  arm  for  your  country  ?" 

She  turned  crimson  and  cast  her  eyes  down;  then,  quickly  re- 
covering herself,  answered: 

"What  do  your  words  mean  ?  Speak  plainly,  Richard." 

"I  cannot  speak  plainer,  Dolores.  Forgive  me  if  I  have  offended 
once  more.  Your  beauty  and  grace  and  eloquence  have  made  me 
forget  myself." 

Her  hands  were  moist  and  trembling  in  mine,  still  she  did  not 
withdraw  them.  "No,  I  am  not  offended,"  she  returned  in  a 
strangely  low  tone.  "Put  me  to  the  test,  Richard.  Do  you  wish  me 
to  understand  clearly  that  for  such  a  favour  as  that  you  would  join 
us?" 

"I  cannot  say,"  I  replied,  still  endeavouring  to  be  prudent,  though 
my  heart  was  on  fire  and  my  words  when  I  spoke  seemed  to  choke 
me.  "But,  Dolores,  if  you  would  shed  your  blood  to  win  one  strong 
arm,  will  you  think  it  too  much  to  bestow  the  favour  I  spoke  of  in 
the  hope  of  winning  an  arm?" 

She  was  silent.  Then,  drawing  her  closer,  I  touched  her  lips  with 
mine.  But  who  was  ever  satisfied  with  that  one  touch  on  the  lips  for 
which  the  heart  has  craved?  It  was  like  contact  with  a  strange, 
celestial  fire  that  instantly  kindled  my  love  to  madness.  Again  and 
yet  again  I  kissed  her;  I  pressed  her  lips  till  they  were  dry  and 
burned  like  fire,  then  kissed  cheek,  forehead,  hair,  and,  casting  my 
arms  about  her  strained  her  to  my  breast  in  a  long,  passionate 
embrace;  then  the  violence  of  the  paroxysm  was  over,  and  with  a 
pang  I  released  her.  She  trembled :  her  face  was  whiter  than  alabas- 
ter, and,  covering  it  with  her  hands,  she  sank  down  on  the  sofa.  I 
sat  down  beside  her  and  drew  her  head  down  on  my  breast,  but  we 
remained  silent,  only  our  hearts  were  beating  very  fast.  Presently 
she  disengaged  herself,  and,  without  bestowing  one  glance  on  me, 
rose  and  left  the  room. 

Before  long  I  began  to  blame  myself  bitterly  for  this  imprudent 
outburst.  I  dared  not  hope  to  continue  longer  on  the  old  familiar 
footing.  So  high-spirited  and  sensitive  a  woman  as  Dolores  would 

135 


Cfte  Purple  IlanD 

not  easily  be  brought  to  forget  or  forgive  my  conduct.  She  had  not 
repelled  me,  she  had  even  tacitly  consented  to  that  one  first  kiss,  and 
was  therefore  partly  to  blame  herself;  but  her  extreme  pallor,  her 
silence,  and  cold  manner  had  plainly  shown  me  that  I  had  wounded 
her.  My  passion  had  overcome  me,  and  I  felt  that  I  had  compromised 
myself.  For  that  one  first  kiss  I  had  all  but  promised  to  do  a  certain 
thing,  and  not  to  do  it  now  seemed  very  dishonourable,  much  as  I 
shrank  from  joining  the  Blanco  rebels.  I  had  proposed  the  thing 
myself;  she  had  silently  consented  to  the  stipulation.  I  had  taken 
my  kiss  and  much  more,  and,  having  now  had  my  delirious,  evan- 
escent joy,  I  could  not  endure  the  thought  of  meanly  skulking  oft 
without  paying  the  price. 

I  went  out  full  of  trouble  and  paced  up  and  down  in  the  orchard 
for  two  or  three  hours,  hoping  that  Dolores  might  come  to  me  there, 
but  I  saw  no  more  of  her  that  day.  At  dinner  Dona  Mercedes  was 
excessively  affable,  showing  clearly  that  she  was  not  in  her  daugh- 
ter's confidence.  She  informed  me,  simple  soul!  that  Dolores  was 
suffering  from  a  grievous  headache  caused  by  taking  a  glass  of 
claret  at  breakfast  after  eating  a  slice  of  water-melon,  an  imprudence 
against  which  she  did  not  omit  to  caution  me. 

Lying  awake  that  night — for  the  thought  that  I  had  pained  and 
offended  Dolores  made  it  impossible  for  me  to  sleep — I  resolved  to 
join  Santa  Coloma  immediately.  That  act  alone  would  salve  my 
conscience,  and  I  only  hoped  that  it  would  serve  to  win  back  the 
friendship  and  esteem  of  the  woman  I  had  learned  to  love  so  well. 
I  had  no  sooner  determined  on  taking  this  step  than  I  began  to  see 
so  many  advantages  in  it  that  it  seemed  strange  I  had  not  taken  it 
before ;  but  we  lose  half  our  opportunities  in  life  through  too  much 
caution.  A  few  more  days  of  adventure,  all  the  pleasanter  for  being 
spiced  with  danger,  and  I  would  be  once  more  in  Montevideo  with 
a  host  of  great  and  grateful  friends  to  start  me  in  some  career  in  the 
country.  Yes,  I  said  to  myself,  becoming  enthusiastic,  once  this 
oppressive,  scandalous,  and  besotted  Colorado  party  is  swept  with 
bullet  and  steel  out  of  the  country,  as  of  course  it  will  be,  I  shall  go 
to  Santa  Coloma  to  lay  down  my  sword,  resuming  by  that  act  my 
own  nationality,  and  as  sole  reward  of  my  chivalrous  conduct  in 


Cbe  purple  Land 

aiding  the  rebellion,  ask  for  his  interest  in  getting  me  placed  say, 
at  the  head  of  some  large  estancia  in  the  interior.  There,  possibly 
on  one  of  his  own  establishments,  I  shall  be  in  my  element  and 
happy,  hunting  ostriches,  eating  came  con  cuero,  possessing  a 
tropilla  of  twenty  cream-coloured  horses  for  my  private  use,  and 
building  up  a  modest  fortune  out  of  hides,  horns,  tallow,  and  other 
native  products.  At  break  of  day  I  rose  and  saddled  my  horse;  then, 
finding  the  dignified  Nepomucino,  who  was  the  early  bird  (black- 
bird) of  the  establishment,  told  him  to  inform  his  mistress  that  I 
was  going  to  spend  the  day  with  General  Santa  Coloma.  After 
taking  a  mate  from  the  old  fellow,  I  mounted  and  galloped  out  of 
the  village  of  Molino. 

Arrived  at  the  camp,  which  had  been  moved  to  a  distance  of 
four  or  five  miles  from  El  Molino,  I  found  Santa  Coloma  just  ready 
to  mount  his  horse  to  start  on  an  expedition  to  a  small  town  eight 
or  nine  leagues  distant.  He  at  once  asked  me  to  go  with  him,  and 
remarked  that  he  was  very  much  pleased,  though  not  surprised, 
at  my  having  changed  my  mind  about  joining  him.  We  did  not 
return  till  late  in  the  evening,  and  the  whole  of  the  following  day 
was  spent  in  monotonous  cavalry  exercises.  I  then  went  to  the 
General  and  requested  permission  to  visit  the  Casa  Blanca  to  bid 
adieu  to  my  friends  there.  He  informed  me  that  he  intended  going 
to  El  Molino  the  next  morning  himself  and  would  take  me  with 
him.  The  first  thing  he  did  on  our  arrival  at  the  village  was  to  send 
me  to  the  principal  storekeeper  in  the  place,  a  man  who  had  faith 
in  the  Blanco  leader,  and  was  rapidly  disposing  of  a  large  stock  of 
goods  at  a  splendid  profit,  receiving  in  payment  sundry  slips  of 
paper  signed  by  Santa  Coloma.  This  good  fellow,  who  mixed  poli- 
tics with  business,  provided  me  with  a  complete  and  much-needed 
outfit,  which  included  a  broadcloth  suit  of  clothes,  soft  brown  hat 
rather  broad  in  the  brim,  long  riding-boots,  and  poncho.  Going 
back  to  the  official  building  or  headquarters  in  the  plaza,  I  received 
my  sword,  which  did  not  harmonise  very  well  with  the  civilian 
costume  I  wore;  but  I  was  no  worse  ofT  in  this  respect  than  forty- 
nine  out  of  every  fifty  men  in  our  little  army. 

In  the  afternoon  we  went  together  to  see  the  ladies,  and  the 

137 


Cfte  purple  ILanD 

General  had  a  very  hearty  welcome  from  both  of  them,  as  I  also 
had  from  Dona  Mercedes,  while  Dolores  received  me  with  the 
utmost  indifference,  expressing  no  pleasure  or  surprise  at  seeing  me 
wearing  a  sword  in  the  cause  which  she  had  professed  to  have  so 
much  at  heart.  This  was  a  sore  disappointment,  and  I  was  also 
nettled  at  her  treatment  of  me.  After  dinner,  over  which  we  sat 
talking  some  time,  the  General  left  us,  telling  me  before  doing  so 
to  join  him  in  the  plaza  at  five  o'clock  next  morning.  I  then  tried 
to  get  an  opportunity  of  speaking  to  Dolores  alone,  but  she 
studiously  avoided  me,  and  in  the  evening  there  were  several  visi- 
tors, ladies  from  the  town  with  three  or  four  officers  from  the  camp, 
and  dancing  and  singing  were  kept  up  till  towards  midnight.  Find- 
ing that  I  could  not  speak  to  her,  and  anxious  about  my  appoint- 
ment at  five  in  the  morning,  I  at  length  retired  sorrowful  and 
baffled  to  my  apartment.  Without  undressing  I  threw  myself  on  my 
bed,  and,  being  very  much  fatigued  with  so  much  riding  about,  I 
soon  fell  asleep.  When  I  woke,  the  brilliant  light  of  the  moon, 
shining  in  at  open  window  and  door,  made  me  fancy  it  was  already 
daylight,  and  I  quickly  sprang  up.  I  had  no  means  of  telling  the 
time,  except  by  going  into  the  large  living-room,  where  there  was 
an  old  eight-day  clock.  Making  my  way  thither,  I  was  amazed  to 
see,  on  entering  it,  Dolores  in  her  white  dress  sitting  beside  the  open 
window  in  a  dejected  attitude.  She  started  and  rose  up  when  I 
entered,  the  extreme  pallor  of  her  face  heightened  by  contrast  with 
her  long,  raven-black  hair  hanging  unbound  on  her  shoulders. 

"Dolores,  do  I  find  you  here  at  this  hour?"  I  exclaimed. 

"Yes,"  she  returned  coldly,  sitting  down  again.  "Do  you  think 
it  very  strange,  Richard?" 

"Pardon  me  for  disturbing  you,"  I  said ;  "I  came  here  to  find  out 
the  time  from  your  clock." 

"It  is  two  o'clock.  Is  that  all  you  came  for  ?  Did  you  imagine  I 
could  retire  to  sleep  without  first  knowing  what  your  motive  was  in 
returning  to  this  house?  Have  you  then  forgotten  everything?" 

I  came  to  her  and  sat  down  by  the  window  before  speaking. 
"No,  Dolores,"  I  said;  "had  I  forgotten,  you  would  not  have  seen 
me  here  enlisted  in  a  cause  which  I  looked  on  only  as  your  cause." 

138 


Cfte  purple  JLanD 

"Ah,  then  you  have  honoured  the  Casa  Blanca  with  this  visit  not 
to  speak  to  me — that  you  considered  unnecessary — but  merely  to 
exhibit  yourself  wearing  a  sword!" 

I  was  stung  by  the  extreme  bitterness  of  her  tone.  "You  are  un- 
just to  me,"  I  said.  "Since  that  fatal  moment  when  my  passion 
overcame  me  I  have  not  ceased  thinking  of  you,  grieving  that  I  had 
offended  you.  No,  I  did  not  come  to  exhibit  my  sword,  which  is  not 
worn  for  ornament;  I  came  only  to  speak  to  you,  Dolores,  and  you 
purposely  avoided  me." 

"Not  without  reason,"  she  retorted  quickly.  "Did  I  not  sit  quietly 
by  you  after  you  had  acted  in  that  way  towards  me,  waiting  for  you 
to  speak — to  explain,  and  you  were  silent?  Well,  senor,  I  am  here 
now,  waiting  again." 

"This,  then,  is  what  I  have  to  say,"  I  replied.  "After  what  passed 
I  considered  myself  bound  in  honour  to  join  your  cause,  Dolores. 
What  more  can  I  say  except  to  implore  your  forgiveness?  Believe 
me,  dear  friend,  in  that  moment  of  passion  I  forgot  everything — 
forgot  that  I — forgot  that  your  hand  was  already  given  to  another." 

"Given  to  another  ?  What  do  you  mean,  Richard  ?  Who  told  you 
that?" 

"General  Santa  Coloma." 

"The  General?  What  right  has  he  to  occupy  himself  with  my 
affairs?  This  is  a  matter  that  concerns  myself  only,  and  it  is  pre- 
sumption on  his  part  to  interfere  in  it." 

"Do  you  speak  in  that  tone  of  your  hero,  Dolores?  Remember 
that  he  only  warned  me  of  my  danger  out  of  pure  friendship.  But 
his  warning  was  thrown  away;  my  unhappy  passion,  the  sight  of 
your  loveliness,  your  own  incautious  words,  were  too  much  for  my 
heart." 

She  dropped  her  face  on  her  hands  and  remained  silent. 

"I  have  suffered  for  my  fault,  and  must  suffer  more.  Will  you 
not  say  you  forgive  me,  Dolores  ?"  I  said,  offering  my  hand. 

She  took  it,  but  continued  silent. 

"Say,  dearest  friend,  that  you  forgive  me,  that  we  part  friends." 

"Oh,  Richard,  must  we  part  then?"  she  murmured. 


CJje  Purple  JLanD 

"Yes — now,  Dolores;  for,  before  you  are  up,  I  must  be  on  horse- 
back and  on  my  way  to  join  the  troops.  The  march  to  Montevideo 
will  probably  commence  almost  immediately." 

"Oh,  I  cannot  bear  it!"  she  suddenly  exclaimed,  taking  my  hands 
in  both  hers.  "Let  me  open  my  heart  to  you  now.  Forgive  me, 
Richard,  for  being  so  angry  with  you,  but  I  did  not  know  the  Gen- 
eral had  said  such  a  thing.  Believe  me,  he  imagines  more  than  he 
knows.  When  you  took  me  in  your  arms  and  held  me  against  your 
breast  it  was  a  revelation  to  me.  I  cannot  love  or  give  my  hand  to 
any  other  man.  You  are  everything  in  the  world  to  me  now,  Rich- 
ard ;  must  you  leave  me  to  mingle  in  this  cruel  civil  strife  in  which 
all  my  dearest  friends  and  relations  have  perished." 

She  had  had  her  revelation;  I  now  had  mine,  and  it  was  an 
exceedingly  bitter  one.  I  trembled  at  the  thought  of  confessing  my 
secret  to  her,  now  when  she  had  so  unmistakably  responded  to  the 
passion  I  had  insanely  revealed. 

Suddenly  she  raised  her  dark,  luminous  eyes  to  mine,  anger  and 
shame  struggling  for  mastery  on  her  pale  face. 

"Speak,  Richard!"  she  exclaimed.  "Your  silence  at  this  moment 
is  an  insult  to  me." 

"For  God's  sake,  have  mercy  on  me,  Dolores,"  I  said.  "I  am  not 
free — I  have  a  wife." 

For  some  moments  she  sat  staring  fixedly  at  me,  then,  flinging 
my  hand  from  her,  covered  her  face.  Presently  she  uncovered  it 
again,  for  shame  was  overcome  and  cast  out  by  anger.  She  rose  and 
stood  up  before  me,  her  face  very  white. 

"You  have  a  wife — a  wife  whose  existence  you  concealed  from 
me  till  this  moment!"  she  said.  "Now  you  ask  for  mercy  when  your 
secret  has  been  wrung  from  you!  Married,  and  you  have  dared  to 
take  me  in  your  arms,  to  excuse  yourself  afterwards  with  the  plea 
of  passion!  Passion — do  you  know  what  it  means,  traitor?  Ah,  no; 
a  breast  like  yours  cannot  know  any  great  or  generous  emotion. 
Would  you  have  dared  show  your  face  to  me  again  had  you  been 
capable  of  shame  even?  And  you  judged  my  heart  as  shallow  as 
your  own,  and,  after  treating  me  in  that  way,  thought  to  win  my 
forgiveness,  and  admiration  even,  by  parading  before  me  with  a 

140 


Cfte  purple  JLanD 

sword!  Leave  me,  I  can  feel  nothing  but  contempt  for  you.  Go;  you 
are  a  disgrace  to  the  cause  you  have  espoused!" 

I  had  sat  utterly  crushed  and  humiliated,  not  daring  even  to  raise 
my  sight  to  her  face,  for  I  felt  that  my  own  unspeakable  weakness 
and  folly  had  brought  this  tempest  upon  me!  But  there  is  a  limit  to 
patience,  even  in  the  most  submissive  mood;  and  when  that  was 
overpassed,  then  my  anger  blazed  out  all  the  more  hotly  for  the 
penitential  meekness  I  had  preserved  during  the  whole  interview. 
Her  words  from  the  first  had  fallen  like  whip-cuts,  making  me 
writhe  with  the  pain  they  inflicted;  but  that  last  taunt  stung  me 
beyond  endurance.  I,  an  Englishman,  to  be  told  that  I  was  a  dis- 
grace to  the  Blanco  cause,  which  I  had  joined,  in  spite  of  my  better 
judgment,  purely  out  of  my  romantic  devotion  to  this  very  woman! 
I  too  was  now  upon  my  feet,  and  there  face  to  face  we  stood  for 
some  moments,  silent  and  trembling.  At  length  I  found  my  speech. 

"This,"  I  cried,  "from  the  woman  who  was  ready  yesterday  to 
shed  her  heart's  blood  to  win  one  strong  arm  for  her  country?  I 
have  renounced  everything,  allied  myself  with  abhorred  robbers  and 
cut-throats,  only  to  learn  that  her  one  desire  is  everything  to  her,  her 
divine,  beautiful  country  nothing.  I  wish  that  a  man  had  spoken 
those  words  to  me,  Dolores,  so  that  I  might  have  put  this  sword 
you  speak  of  to  one  good  use  before  breaking  it  and  flinging  it  from 
me  like  the  vile  thing  it  is!  Would  to  God  the  earth  would  open 
and  swallow  up  this  land  for  ever,  though  I  sank  down  into  hell 
with  it  for  the  detestable  crime  of  taking  part  in  its  pirate  wars!" 

She  stood  perfectly  still,  gazing  at  me  with  widely  dilated  eyes, 
a  new  expression  coming  into  her  face;  then  when  I  paused  for  her 
to  speak,  expecting  only  a  fresh  outburst  of  scorn  and  bitterness,  a 
strange,  sorrowful  smile  flitted  over  her  lips,  and,  coming  close  to 
me,  she  placed  her  hand  on  my  shoulder. 

"Oh,"  she  said,  "what  a  strength  of  passion  you  are  capable  of! 
Forgive  me,  Richard,  for  I  have  forgiven  you.  Ah,  we  were  made  for 
each  other,  and  it  can  never,  never  be." 

She  dropped  her  head  dejectedly  on  my  shoulder.  My  anger 
vanished  at  those  sad  words;  love  only  remained — love  mingled 
with  profoundest  compassion  and  remorse  for  the  pain  I  had  in- 

141 


Cfte  purple  JLanfl 

flicted.  Supporting  her  with  my  arm,  I  tenderly  stroked  her  dark 
hair,  and,  stooping,  pressed  my  lips  against  it. 

"Do  you  love  me  so  much,  Dolores,"  I  said,  "enough  even  to 
forgive  the  cruel,  bitter  words  I  have  just  spoken  ?  Oh,  I  was  mad — 
mad  to  say  such  things  to  you,  and  shall  repent  it  all  my  life  long! 
How  cruelly  have  I  wounded  you  with  my  love  and  my  anger! 
Tell  me,  dearest  Dolores,  can  you  forgive  me?" 

"Yes,  Richard ;  everything.  Is  there  any  word  you  can  speak,  any 
deed  you  can  do,  and  I  not  forgive  it  ?  Does  your  wife  love  you  like 
that — can  you  love  her  as  you  love  me  ?  How  cruel  destiny  is  to  us ! 
Ah,  my  beloved  country,  I  was  ready  to  shed  my  blood  for  you — 
just  to  win  one  strong  arm  to  fight  for  you,  but  I  did  not  dream 
that  this  would  be  the  sacrifice  required  of  me.  Look,  it  will  soon 
be  time  for  you  to  go — we  cannot  sleep  now,  Richard.  Sit  down 
here  with  me,  and  let  us  spend  this  last  hour  together  with  my  hand 
in  yours,  for  we  shall  never,  never,  never  meet  again." 

And  so,  sitting  there  hand  in  hand,  we  waited  for  the  dawn, 
speaking  many  sad  and  tender  words  to  one  another;  and  at  last, 
when  we  parted,  I  held  her  once  more  unresisting  to  my  breast, 
thinking,  as  she  did,  that  our  separation  would  be  an  eternal  one. 


142 


Oc  Purple  LanD 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

BOUT  the  stirring  events  of  the  succeeding  days  I  have  little 
to  relate,  and  no  reader  who  has  suffered  the  malady  of 
love  in  its  acutest  form  will  wonder  at  it.  During  those 
days  I  mixed  with  a  crowd  of  adventurers,  returned  exiles,  criminals, 
and  malcontents,  every  one  of  them  worth  studying;  the  daylight 
hours  were  passed  in  cavalry  exercises  or  in  long  expeditions  about 
the  country,  while  every  evening  beside  the  camp  fire  romantic  tales 
enough  to  fill  a  volume  were  told  in  my  hearing.  But  the  image  of 
Dolores  was  ever  before  my  mind,  so  that  all  this  crowded  period, 
lasting  nine  or  ten  days,  passed  before  me  like  a  phantasmagoria,  or 
an  uneasy  dream,  leaving  only  a  very  confused  impression  on  my 
brain.  I  not  only  grieved  for  the  sorrow  I  had  occasioned  her,  but 
mourned  also  that  my  own  heart  had  so  terribly  betrayed  me,  so 
that  for  the  moment  the  beautiful  girl  I  had  persuaded  to  fly  from 
home  and  parents,  promising  her  my  undying  affection,  had  ceased 
to  be  what  she  had  been,  so  great  was  this  new  inconvenient  passion. 
The  General  had  offered  me  a  commission  in  his  tatterdemalion 
gathering,  but,  as  I  had  no  knowledge  of  military  matters,  I  had 
prudently  declined  it,  only  requesting,  as  a  special  favour,  that  I 
might  be  employed  constantly  on  the  expeditions  he  sent  out  over 
the  surrounding  country  to  beat  up  recruits,  seize  arms,  cattle,  and 
horses,  and  to  depose  the  little  local  authorities  in  the  villages,  put- 
ting creatures  of  his  own  in  their  places.  This  request  had  been 
granted,  so  that  morning,  noon,  and  night  I  was  generally  in  the 
saddle. 

One  evening  I  was  in  the  camp  seated  beside  a  large  fire  and 
gloomily  staring  into  the  flames,  when  the  other  men,  who  were 
occupied  playing  cards  or  sipping  mate,  hastily  rose  to  their  feet, 
making  the  salute.  Then  I  saw  the  General  standing  near  gazing 

143 


Cfte  purple  LanD 

fixedly  at  me.  Motioning  to  the  men  to  resume  their  cards,  he  sat 
down  by  my  side. 

"What  is  the  matter  with  you?"  he  said.  "I  have  noticed  that 
you  are  like  a  different  person  since  you  joined  us.  Do  you  regret 
that  step?" 

"No,"  I  answered,  and  then  was  silent,  not  knowing  what  more 
to  say. 

He  looked  searchingly  at  me.  Doubtless  some  suspicion  of  the 
truth  was  in  his  mind ;  for  he  had  gone  to  the  Casa  Blanca  with  me, 
and  it  was  scarcely  likely  that  his  keen  eyes  had  failed  to  notice  the 
cold  reception  Dolores  gave  me  on  that  occasion.  He  did  not,  how- 
ever, touch  on  that  matter. 

"Tell  me,"  he  said  at  length,  "what  can  1  do  for  you?" 

I  laughed.  "What  can  you  do  except  to  take  me  to  Montevideo?" 
I  replied. 

"Why  do  you  say  that?"  he  returned  quickly. 

"We  are  not  merely  friends  now  as  we  were  before  I  joined  you," 
I  said.  "You  are  my  General ;  I  am  simply  one  of  your  men." 

"The  friendship  remains  just  the  same,  Richard.  Let  me  know 
frankly  what  you  think  of  this  campaign,  since  you  have  now 
suddenly  turned  the  current  of  the  conversation  in  that  direction?" 

There  was  a  slight  sting  in  the  concluding  words,  but  I  had, 
perhaps,  deserved  it.  "Since  you  bid  me  speak,"  I  said,  "I,  for  one, 
feel  very  much  disappointed  at  the  little  progress  we  are  making. 
It  seems  to  me  that  before  you  are  in  a  position  to  strike,  the 
enthusiasm  and  courage  of  your  people  will  have  vanished.  You 
cannot  get  anything  like  a  decent  army  together,  and  the  few  men 
you  have  are  badly  armed  and  undisciplined.  Is  it  not  plain  that  a 
march  to  Montevideo  in  these  circumstances  is  impossible,  that  you 
will  be  obliged  to  retire  into  the  remote  and  difficult  places  to  carry 
on  a  guerilla  war?" 

"No,"  he  returned;  "there  is  to  be  no  guerilla  war.  The  Colo- 
rados  made  the  Orientals  sick  of  it,  when  that  arch-traitor  and  chief 
of  cut-throats,  General  Rivera,  desolated  the  Banda  for  ten  years. 
We  must  ride  on  to  Montevideo  soon.  As  for  the  character  of  my 
force,  that  is  a  matter  it  would  perhaps  be  useless  to  discuss,  my 

144 


Cfte  purple  JLanD 

young  friend.  If  I  could  import  a  well-equipped  and  disciplined 
army  from  Europe  to  do  my  righting,  I  should  do  so.  The  Oriental 
farmer,  unable  to  send  to  England  for  a  threshing-machine,  is 
obliged  to  go  out  and  gather  his  wild  mares  from  the  plain  to  tread 
out  his  wheat,  and  I,  in  like  manner,  having  only  a  few  scattered 
ranchos  to  draw  my  soldiers  from,  must  be  satisfied  to  do  what  I 
can  with  them.  And  now  tell  me,  are  you  anxious  to  see  something 
done  at  once — a  fight,  for  instance,  in  which  we  might  possibly  be 
the  losers?" 

"Yes,  that  would  be  better  than  standing  still.  If  you  are  strong, 
the  best  thing  you  can  do  is  to  show  your  strength." 

He  laughed.  "Richard,  you  were  made  for  an  Oriental,"  he  said, 
"only  nature  at  your  birth  dropped  you  down  in  the  wrong  country. 
You  are  brave  to  rashness,  abhor  restraint,  love  women,  and  have  a 
light  heart;  the  Castilian  gravity  you  have  recently  assumed  is,  I 
fancy,  only  a  passing  mood." 

"Your  words  are  highly  complimentary  and  fill  me  with  pride," 
I  answered,  "but  I  scarcely  see  their  connection  with  the  subject  of 
our  conversation." 

"There  is  a  connection,  nevertheless,"  he  returned  pleasantly. 
"Though  you  refuse  a  commission  from  me,  I  am  so  convinced  that 
you  are  in  heart  one  of  us  that  I  will  take  you  into  my  confidence 
and  tell  you  something  known  to  only  half  a  dozen  trusted  indi- 
viduals here.  You  rightly  say  that  if  we  have  strength  we  must  show 
it  to  the  country.  That  is  what  we  are  now  about  to  do.  A  cavalry 
force  has  been  sent  against  us  and  we  shall  engage  it  before  two 
days  are  over.  As  far  as  I  know,  the  forces  will  be  pretty  evenly 
balanced,  though  our  enemies  will,  of  course,  be  better  armed.  We 
shall  choose  our  own  ground ;  and,  should  they  attack  us  tired  with 
a  long  march,  or  if  there  should  be  any  disaffection  amongst  them, 
the  victory  will  be  ours,  and  after  that  every  Blanco  sword  in  the 
Banda  will  be  unsheathed  in  our  cause.  I  need  not  repeat  to  you 
that  in  the  hour  of  my  triumph,  if  it  ever  comes,  I  shall  not  forget 
my  debt  to  you;  my  wish  is  to  bind  you,  body  and  heart,  to  this 
Oriental  country.  It  is,  however,  possible  that  I  may  suffer  defeat, 
and  if  in  two  days'  time  we  are  all  scattered  to  the  winds,  let  me 

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advise  you  what  to  do.  Do  not  attempt  to  return  immediately  to 
Montevideo,  as  that  might  be  dangerous.  Make  your  way  by  Minas 
to  the  southern  coast ;  and  when  you  reach  the  department  of  Rocha, 
inquire  for  the  little  settlement  of  Lomas  de  Rocha,  a  village  three 
leagues  west  of  the  lake.  You  will  find  there  a  storekeeper,  one 
Florentine  Blanco — a  Blanco  in  heart  as  well.  Tell  him  I  sent  you  to 
him,  and  ask  him  to  procure  you  an  English  passport  from  the 
capital;  after  which  it  will  be  safe  for  you  to  travel  to  Montevideo. 
Should  you  ever  be  identified  as  a  follower  of  mine,  you  can  invent 
some  story  to  account  for  your  presence  in  my  force.  When  I  re- 
member that  botanical  lecture  you  once  delivered,  also  some  other 
matters,  I  am  convinced  that  you  are  not  devoid  of  imagination." 

After  giving  some  further  kind  advice,  he  bade  me  good  night, 
leaving  me  with  a  strangely  unpleasant  conviction  in  my  mind  that 
we  had  changed  characters  for  the  nonce,  and  that  I  had  bungled 
as  much  in  my  new  part  as  I  had  formerly  done  in  my  old.  He  had 
been  sincerity  itself,  while  I,  picking  up  the  discarded  mask,  had 
tied  it  on,  probably  upside  down,  for  it  made  me  feel  excessively 
uncomfortable  during  our  interview.  To  make  matters  worse,  I  was 
also  sure  that  it  had  quite  failed  to  hide  my  countenance,  and  that 
he  knew  as  well  as  I  knew  myself  the  real  cause  of  the  change  he 
had  noticed  in  me. 

These  disagreeable  reflections  did  not  trouble  me  long,  and  then 
I  began  to  feel  considerable  excitement  at  the  prospect  of  a  brush 
with  the  government  troops.  My  thoughts  kept  me  awake  most  of 
the  night;  still,  next  morning,  when  the  trumpet  sounded  its  shrill 
reveille  close  at  hand,  I  rose  quickly,  and  in  a  much  more  cheerful 
mood  than  I  had  known  of  late.  I  began  to  feel  that  I  was  getting 
the  better  of  that  insane  passion  for  Dolores  which  had  made  us 
both  so  unhappy,  and  when  we  were  once  more  in  the  saddle  the 
"Castilian  gravity,"  to  which  the  General  had  satirically  alluded, 
had  pretty  well  vanished. 

No  expeditions  were  sent  out  that  day;  after  we  had  marched 
about  twelve  or  thirteen  miles  eastward  and  nearer  to  the  immense 
range  of  the  Cuchilla  Grande,  we  encamped,  and  after  the  midday 
meal  spent  the  afternoon  in  cavalry  exercises. 

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On  the  next  day  happened  the  great  event  for  which  we  had 
been  preparing,  and  I  am  positive  that,,  with  the  wretched  material 
he  commanded,  no  man  could  have  done  more  than  Santa  Coloma, 
though,  alas !  all  his  efforts  ended  in  disaster.  Alas,  I  say,  not  because 
I  took,  even  then,  any  very  serious  interest  in  Oriental  politics,  but 
because  it  would  have  been  greatly  to  my  advantage  if  things  had 
turned  out  differently.  Besides,  a  great  many  poor  devils  who  had 
been  an  unconscionable  time  out  in  the  cold  would  have  come  into 
power,  and  the  rascally  Colorados  sent  away  in  their  turn  to  eat  the 
"bitter  bread"  of  proscription.  The  fable  of  the  fox  and  the  flies 
might  here  possibly  occur  to  the  reader;  I,  however,  preferred  to 
remember  Lucero's  fable  of  the  tree  called  Montevideo,  with  the 
chattering  colony  in  its  branches,  and  to  look  upon  myself  as  one 
in  the  majestic  bovine  army  about  to  besiege  the  monkeys  and 
punish  them  for  their  naughty  behaviour. 

Quite  early  in  the  morning  we  had  breakfast,  then  every  man 
was  ordered  to  saddle  his  best  horse;  for  every  one  of  us  was  the 
owner  of  three  or  four  steeds.  I,  of  course,  saddled  the  horse  the 
General  had  given  me,  which  had  been  reserved  for  important 
work.  We  mounted,  and  proceeded  at  a  gentle  pace  through  a  very 
wild  and  broken  country,  still  in  the  direction  of  the  Cuchilla. 
About  midday  scouts  came  riding  in  and  reported  that  the  enemy 
were  close  upon  us.  After  halting  for  half  an  hour,  we  again  pro- 
ceeded at  the  same  gentle  pace  till  about  two  o'clock,  when  we 
crossed  the  Canada  de  San  Paulo,  a  deep  valley  beyond  which  the 
plain  rose  to  a  height  of  about  one  hundred  and  fifty  feet.  In  the 
canada  we  stopped  to  water  our  horses,  and  there  heard  that  the 
enemy  were  advancing  along  it  at  a  rapid  pace,  evidently  hoping  to 
cut  off  our  supposed  retreat  towards  the  Cuchilla.  Crossing  the  little 
stream  of  San  Paulo,  we  began  slowly  ascending  the  sloping  plain 
on  the  farther  side  till  the  highest  point  was  gained ;  then,  turning, 
we  saw  the  enemy,  numbering  about  seven  hundred  men,  beneath 
us,  spread  out  in  a  line  of  extraordinary  length.  Up  from  the  valley 
they  came  towards  us  at  a  brisk  trot.  We  were  then  rapidly  disposed 
in  three  columns,  the  centre  one  numbering  about  two  hundred  and 
fifty  men,  the  others  about  two  hundred  men  each.  I  was  in  one  of 

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Cfte  purple  JLanD 

the  outside  columns,  within  about  four  men  from  the  front.  My 
fellow-soldiers,  who  had  hitherto  been  very  light-hearted  and 
chatty,  had  suddenly  become  grave  and  quiet,  some  of  them  even 
looking  pale  and  scared.  On  one  side  of  me  was  an  irrepressible 
scamp  of  a  boy  about  eighteen  years  old,  a  dark  little  fellow,  with  a 
monkey  face  and  a  feeble,  falsetto  voice  like  a  very  old  woman.  I 
watched  him  take  out  a  small  sharp  knife  and  without  looking 
down  draw  it  across  the  upper  part  of  his  surcingle  three  or  four 
times;  but  this  he  did  evidently  only  for  practice,  as  he  did  not  cut 
into  the  hide.  Seeing  me  watching,  he  grinned  mysteriously  and 
made  a  sign  with  head  and  shoulders  thrust  forward  in  imitation 
of  a  person  riding  away  at  full  speed,  after  which  he  restored  his 
knife  to  its  sheath. 

"You  intend  cutting  your  surcingle  and  running  away,  little 
coward?"  I  said. 

"And  what  are  you  going  to  do  ?"  he  returned. 

"Fight,"  I  said. 

"It  is  the  best  thing  you  can  do,  Sir  Frenchman,"  said  he,  with 
a  grin. 

"Listen,"  I  said,  "when  the  fight  is  over,  I  will  look  you  up  to 
thrash  you  for  your  impertinence  in  calling  me  a  Frenchman." 

"After  the  fight!"  he  exclaimed,  with  a  funny  grimace.  "Do  you 
mean  next  year  ?  Before  that  distant  time  arrives  some  Colorado  will 
fall  in  love  with  you,  and — and — and " 

Here  he  explained  himself  without  words  by  drawing  the  edge 
of  his  hand  briskly  across  his  throat,  then  closing  his  eyes  and  mak- 
ing gurgling  sounds,  supposed  to  be  uttered  by  a  person  undergoing 
the  painful  operation  of  having  his  throat  cut. 

Our  colloquy  was  carried  on  in  whispers,  but  his  pantomimic 
performance  drew  on  us  the  attention  of  our  neighbours,  and  now 
he  looked  round  to  inform  them  with  a  grin  and  a  nod  that  his 
Oriental  wit  was  getting  the  victory.  I  was  determined  not  to  be  put 
down  by  him,  however,  and  tapped  my  revolver  with  my  hand  to 
call  his  attention  to  it. 

"Look  at  this,  you  young  miscreant,"  I  said.  "Do  you  not  know 

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Cfte  purple  LanD 

that  I  and  many  others  in  this  column  have  received  orders  from 
the  General  to  shoot  down  every  man  who  attempts  to  run  away?" 

This  speech  effectually  silenced  him.  He  turned  as  pale  as  his 
dark  skin  would  let  him,  and  looked  round  like  a  hunted  animal  in 
search  of  a  hole  to  hide  in. 

On  my  other  hand  a  grizzly-bearded  old  gaucho,  in  somewhat 
tattered  garments,  lit  a  cigarette  and,  oblivious  of  everything  except 
the  stimulating  fragrance  of  the  strongest  black  tobacco,  expanded 
his  lungs  with  long  inspirations,  to  send  forth  thereafter  clouds  of 
blue  smoke  into  his  neighbours'  faces,  scattering  the  soothing  per- 
fume over  a  third  portion  of  the  army. 

Santa  Coloma  rose  equal  to  the  occasion;  swiftly  riding  from 
column  to  column,  he  addressed  each  in  turn,  and,  using  the  quaint, 
expressive  phraseology  of  the  gauchos,  which  he  knew  so  well, 
poured  forth  his  denunciations  of  the  Colorados  with  a  fury  and 
eloquence  that  brought  the  blood  with  a  rush  to  many  of  his  fol- 
lowers' pale  cheeks.  They  were  traitors,  plunderers,  assassins,  he 
cried;  they  had  committed  a  million  crimes,  but  all  these  things 
were  nothing,  nothing  compared  with  that  one  black  crime  which 
no  other  political  party  had  been  guilty  of.  By  the  aid  of  Brazilian 
gold  and  Brazilian  bayonets  they  had  risen  to  power;  they  were  the 
infamous  pensioners  of  the  empire  of  slaves.  He  compared  them  to 
the  man  who  marries  a  beautiful  wife  and  sells  her  to  some  rich 
person  so  as  to  live  luxuriously  on  the  wages  of  his  own  dishonour. 
The  foul  stain  which  they  had  brought  on  the  honour  of  the  Banda 
Oriental  could  only  be  washed  away  with  their  blood.  Pointing  to 
the  advancing  troops,  he  said  that  when  those  miserable  hirelings 
were  scattered  like  thistle-down  before  the  wind,  the  entire  country 
would  be  with  him,  and  the  Banda  Oriental,  after  half  a  century 
of  degradation,  free  at  last  and  for  ever  from  the  Brazilian  curse. 

Waving  his  sword,  he  galloped  back  to  the  front  of  his  column, 
greeted  by  a  storm  of  vivas. 

Then  a  great  silence  fell  upon  our  ranks;  while  up  the  slope, 
their  trumpets  sounding  merrily,  trotted  the  enemy,  till  they  had 
covered  about  three  hundred  yards  of  the  ascending  ground,  threat- 
ening to  close  us  round  in  an  immense  circle,  when  suddenly  the 

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Cfte  Ipurple  LanD 


order  was  given  to  charge,  and,  led  by  Santa  Coloma,  we  thundered 
down  the  incline  upon  them. 

Soldiers  reading  this  plain,  unvarnished  account  of  an  Oriental 
battle  might  feel  inclined  to  criticise  Santa  Coloma's  tactics;  for  his 
men  were,  like  the  Arabs,  horsemen  and  little  else;  they  were, 
moreover,  armed  with  lance  and  broadsword,  weapons  requiring  a 
great  deal  of  space  to  be  used  effectively.  Yet,  considering  all  the 
circumstances,  I  am  sure  that  he  did  the  right  thing.  He  knew  that 
he  was  too  weak  to  meet  the  enemy  in  the  usual  way,  pitting  man 
against  man;  also  that  if  he  failed  to  fight,  his  temporary  prestige 
would  vanish  like  smoke  and  the  rebellion  collapse.  Having  decided 
to  hazard  all,  and  knowing  that  in  a  stand-up  fight  he  would 
infallibly  be  beaten,  his  only  plan  was  to  show  a  bold  front,  mass  his 
feeble  followers  together  in  columns,  and  hurl  them  upon  the 
enemy,  hoping  by  this  means  to  introduce  a  panic  amongst  his 
opponents  and  so  snatch  the  victory. 

A  discharge  of  carbines  with  which  we  were  received  did  us  no 
damage.  I,  at  any  rate,  saw  no  saddles  emptied  near  me,  and  in  a 
few  moments  we  were  dashing  through  the  advancing  lines.  A 
shout  of  triumph  went  up  from  our  men,  for  our  cowardly  foes 
were  flying  before  us  in  all  directions.  On  we  rode  in  triumph  till 
we  reached  the  bottom  of  the  hill,  then  we  reined  up,  for  before  us 
was  the  stream  of  San  Paulo,  and  the  few  scattered  men  who  had 
crossed  it  and  were  scuttling  away  like  hunted  ostriches  scarcely 
seemed  worth  chasing.  Suddenly  with  a  great  shout  a  large  body  of 
Colorados  came  thundering  down  the  hill  on  our  rear  and  flank, 
and  dismay  seized  upon  us.  The  feeble  efforts  made  by  some  of  our 
officers  to  bring  us  round  to  face  them  proved  unavailing.  I  am 
utterly  unable  to  give  any  clear  account  of  what  followed  imme- 
diately after  that,  for  we  were  all,  friends  and  foes,  mixed  up  for 
some  minutes  in  the  wildest  confusion,  and  how  I  ever  got  out  of  it 
all  without  a  scratch  is  a  mystery  to  me.  More  than  once  I  was  in 
violent  collision  with  Colorado  men,  distinguished  from  ours  by 
their  uniform,  and  several  furious  blows  with  sword  and  lance  were 
aimed  at  me,  but  somehow  I  escaped  them  all.  I  emptied  the  six 
chambers  of  my  Colt's  revolver,  but  whether  my  bullets  did  any 

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execution  or  not  I  cannot  pretend  to  say.  In  the  end  I  found  myself 
surrounded  by  four  of  our  men  who  were  furiously  spurring  their 
horses  out  of  the  fight. 

"Whip  up,  Captain,  come  with  us  this  way,"  shouted  one  of 
them  who  knew  me,  and  who  always  insisted  on  giving  me  a  tide  to 
which  I  had  no  right. 

As  we  rode  away,  skirting  the  hill  towards  the  south,  he  assured 
me  that  all  was  lost,  in  proof  of  which  he  pointed  to  scattered  bodies 
of  our  men  flying  from  the  field  in  all  directions.  Yes,  we  were 
defeated;  that  was  plain  to  see,  and  I  needed  little  encouragement 
from  my  fellow-runaways  to  spur  my  horse  to  its  utmost  speed. 
Had  the  falcon  eye  of  Santa  Coloma  rested  on  me  at  that  moment 
he  might  have  added  to  the  list  of  Oriental  traits  he  had  given  me 
the  un-English  faculty  of  knowing  when  I  was  beaten.  I  was  quite 
as  anxious,  I  believe,  to  save  my  skin  —  throat,  we  say  in  the  Banda 
Oriental  —  as  any  horseman  there,  not  even  excepting  the  monkey- 
faced  boy  with  the  squeaky  voice. 

If  the  curious  reader,  thirsting  for  knowledge,  will  consult  the 
Uruguayan  histories,  I  daresay  he  will  find  a  more  scientific  descrip- 
tion of  the  battle  of  San  Paulo  than  I  have  been  able  to  give.  My 
excuse  must  be  tiiat  it  was  the  only  battle  —  pitched  or  other  —  at 
which  I  have  ever  assisted,  also  that  my  position  in  the  Blanco  forces 
was  a  very  humble  one.  Altogether  I  am  not  overproud  of  my 
soldiering  performances  ;  still,  as  I  did  no  worse  than  Frederick  the 
Great  of  Prussia,  who  ran  away  from  his  first  battle,  I  do  not  con- 
sider that  I  need  blush  furiously.  My  companions  took  our  defeat 
with  the  usual  Oriental  resignation.  "You  see,"  said  one  in  explana- 
tion of  his  mental  attitude,  "there  must  always  be  one  side  defeated 
in  every  fight,  for  had  we  gained  the  day,  then  the  Colorados  would 
have  lost."  There  was  in  this  remark  a  sound  practical  philosophy; 
it  could  not  be  controverted,  it  burdened  our  brains  with  no  new 
thing,  and  it  made  us  all  very  cheerful.  For  myself,  I  did  not  care 
very  much,  but  could  not  help  thinking  a  great  deal  of  Dolores, 
who  would  now  have  a  fresh  grief  to  increase  her  pain. 

For  a  distance  of  three  or  four  miles,  we  rode  at  a  fast  gallop, 
then  on  the  slopes  of  the  Cuchilla  paused  to  breathe  our  horses,  and, 


Cfte  purple  JLanD 

dismounting,  stood  for  some  time  gazing  back  over  the  wide  land- 
scape spread  out  before  us.  At  our  backs  rose  the  giant  green  and 
brown  walls  of  the  sierras,  the  range  stretching  away  on  either  hand 
in  violet  and  deep  blue  masses.  At  our  feet  lay  the  billowy  green  and 
yellow  plain,  vast  as  ocean,  and  channelled  by  innumerable  streams, 
while  one  black  patch  on  a  slope  far  away  showed  us  that  our  foes 
were  camping  on  the  very  spot  where  they  had  overcome  us.  Not  a 
cloud  appeared  in  the  immense  heavens;  only,  low  down  in  the 
west,  purple  and  rose-coloured  vapours  were  beginning  to  form, 
staining  the  clear,  intense  white-blue  sky  about  the  sinking  sun. 
Over  all  reigned  deep  silence;  until,  suddenly,  a  flock  of  orange  and 
flame-coloured  orioles  with  black  wings  swept  down  on  a  clump  of 
bushes  hard  by  and  poured  forth  a  torrent  of  wild,  joyous  music.  A 
strange  performance!  screaming  notes  that  seemed  to  scream  jubi- 
lant gladness  to  listening  heaven,  and  notes  abrupt  and  guttural, 
mingling  with  others  more  clear  and  soul-piercing  than  ever  human 
lips  drew  from  reed  or  metal.  It  soon  ended;  up  sprang  the  vocalists 
like  a  fountain  of  fire  and  fled  away  to  their  roost  among  the  hills, 
then  silence  reigned  once  more.  What  brilliant  hues,  what  gay, 
fantastic  music!  Were  they  indeed  birds,  or  the  glad,  winged  in- 
habitants of  a  mystic  region,  resembling  earth,  but  sweeter  than 
earth  and  never  entered  by  death,  upon  whose  threshold  I  had 
stumbled  by  chance?  Then,  while  the  last  rich  flood  of  sunshine 
came  over  the  earth  from  that  red,  everlasting  urn  resting  on  the 
far  horizon,  I  could,  had  I  been  alone,  have  cast  myself  upon  the 
ground  to  adore  the  great  God  of  Nature,  who  had  given  me  this 
precious  moment  of  life.  For  here  the  religion  that  languishes  in 
crowded  cities  or  steals  shame-faced  to  hide  itself  in  dim  churches 
flourishes  greatly,  filling  the  soul  with  a  solemn  joy.  Face  to  face 
with  Nature  on  the  vast  hills  at  eventide,  who  does  not  feel  himself 
near  to  the  Unseen? 

Out  of  his  heart  God  shall  not  pass: 
His  image  stamped  is  on  every  grass. 

My  comrades,  anxious. to  get  through  the  Cuchilla,  were  already 
on  horseback,  shouting  to  me  to  mount.  One  more  lingering  glance 

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Cfie  purple  JLanD 

over  that  wide  prospect — wide,  yet  how  small  a  portion  of  the 
Banda's  twenty  thousand  miles  of  everlasting  verdure,  watered  by 
innumerable  beautiful  streams  ?  Again  the  thought  of  Dolores  swept 
like  a  moaning  wind  over  my  heart.  For  this  rich  prize,  her  beauti- 
ful country,  how  weakly  and  with  what  feeble  hands  had  we 
striven!  Where  now  was  her  hero,  the  glorious  deliverer  Perseus? 
Lying,  perhaps,  stark  and  stained  with  blood  on  yon  darkening 
moor.  Not  yet  was  the  Colorado  monster  overcome.  "Rest  on  thy 
rock,  Andromeda!"  I  sadly  murmured,  then,  leaping  into  the  saddle, 
galloped  away  after  my  retreating  comrades,  already  half  a  mile 
away  down  in  trie  shadowy  mountain  pass. 


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CHAPTER  XIX 

EFORE  it  had  been  long  dark,  we  had  crossed  the  range  and 
into  the  department  of  Minas.  Nothing  happened  till  to- 
wards midnight,  when  our  horses  began  to  be  greatly 
distressed.  My  companions  hoped  to  reach  before  morning  an 
estancia,  still  many  leagues  distant,  where  they  were  known  and 
would  be  allowed  to  lie  in  concealment  for  a  few  days  till  the  storm 
blew  over;  for  usually  shortly  after  an  outbreak  has  been  put  down 
an  indulto,  or  proclamation  of  pardon,  is  issued,  after  which  it  is 
safe  for  all  those  who  have  taken  arms  against  the  constituted  gov- 
ernment to  return  to  their  homes.  For  the  time  we  were,  of  course, 
outlaws,  and  liable  to  have  our  throats  cut  at  any  moment.  Our  poor 
horses  at  last  became  incapable  even  of  a  trot,  and,  dismounting,  we 
walked  on,  leading  them  by  the  bridles. 

About  midnight  we  approached  a  watercourse,  the  upper  part 
of  the  Rio  Barriga  Negra — Black  Belly  River — and  on  coming  near 
it  the  tinkling  of  a  bell  attracted  our  attention.  It  is  the  usual  thing 
for  every  man  in  the  Banda  Oriental  to  have  one  mare,  called 
'mcrdrina,  in  his  tropilla,  or  herd  of  geldings;  the  madrina  always 
carries  a  bell  attached  to  her  neck,  and  at  night  her  forefeet  are 
usually  hobbled  to  prevent  her  wandering  far  from  home;  for  the 
horses  are  always  very  much  attached  to  her  and  will  not  leave  her. 

After  listening  for  a  few  moments,  we  concluded  that  the  sound 
came  from  the  bell  of  a  madrina,  and  that  her  forefeet  were  bound, 
for  the  tinkle  came  in  violent  jerks,  as  from  an  animal  laboriously 
hopping  along.  Proceeding  to  the  spot,  we  found  a  tropilla  of  eleven 
or  twelve  dun-coloured  horses  feeding  near  the  river.  Driving  them 
very  gently  towards  the  bank,  where  a  sharp  bend  in  the  stream 
enabled  us  to  corner  them,  we  set  to  work  catching  fresh  horses. 
Fortunately  they  were  not  very  shy  of  strangers,  and  after  we  had 

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caught  and  secured  the  madrina,  they  gathered  whinnying  round 
her,  and  we  were  not  very  long  in  selecting  the  five  best-looking 
duns  in  the  herd. 

"My  friends,  I  call  this  stealing,"  I  said,  though  at  that  very 
moment  I  was  engaged  in  hastily  transferring  my  saddle  to  the 
animal  I  had  secured. 

"That  is  very  interesting  information,"  said  one  of  my  comrades. 

"A  stolen  horse  will  always  carry  you  well,"  said  another. 

"If  you  cannot  steal  a  horse  without  compunction,  you  have  not 
been  properly  brought  up,"  cried  the  third. 

"In  the  Banda  Oriental,"  said  the  fourth,  "you  are  not  looked 
upon  as  an  honest  man  unless  you  steal." 

We  then  crossed  the  river  and  broke  into  a  swift  gallop,  which 
we  kept  up  till  morning,  reaching  our  destination  a  little  while 
before  sunrise.  There  was  here  a  fine  plantation  of  trees  not  far  from 
the  house,  surrounded  by  a  deep  ditch  and  a  cactus  hedge,  and  after 
we  had  taken  mate  and  then  breakfast  at  the  house,  where  the 
people  received  us  very  kindly,  we  proceeded  to  conceal  our  horses 
and  ourselves  in  the  plantation.  We  found  a  comfortable  little  grassy 
hollow,  partly  shaded  with  the  surrounding  trees,  and  here  we 
spread  our  rugs,  and,  fatigued  with  our  exertions,  soon  dropped  into 
a  deep  sleep  which  lasted  pretty  well  all  day.  It  was  a  pleasant  day 
for  me,  for  I  had  waking  intervals  during  which  I  experienced  that 
sensation  of  absolute  rest  of  mind  and  body  which  is  so  exceedingly 
sweet  after  a  long  period  of  toil  and  anxiety.  During  my  waking 
intervals  I  smoked  cigarettes  and  listened  to  the  querulous  pipings 
of  a  flock  of  young  black-headed  siskins  flying  about  from  tree  to 
tree  after  their  parents  and  asking  to  be  fed. 

Occasionally  the  long,  clear  cry  of  the  venteveo,  a  lemon-coloured 
bird  with  black  head  and  long  beak  like  a  kingfisher,  rang  through 
the  foliage;  or  a  flock  of  pecho  amarillos,  olive-brown  birds  with 
bright  yellow  vests,  would  visit  the  trees  and  utter  their  confused 
chorus  of  gay  notes. 

I  did  not  think  very  much  about  Santa  Coloma.  Probably  he 
had  escaped,  and  was  once  more  a  wanderer  disguised  in  the 
humble  garments  of  a  peasant;  but  that  would  be  no  new  experi- 


Cfte  Purple  LanD 

ence  to  him.  The  bitter  bread  of  expatriation  had  apparently  been 
his  usual  food,  and  his  periodical  descents  upon  the  country  had  so 
far  always  ended  in  disaster:  he  had  still  an  object  to  live  for.  But 
when  I  remembered  Dolores  lamenting  her  lost  cause  and  vanished 
peace  of  mind,  then,  in  spite  of  the  bright  sunshine  flecking  the 
grass,  the  soft,  warm  wind  fanning  my  face  and  whispering  in  the 
foliage  overhead,  and  the  merry-throated  birds  that  came  to  visit 
me,  a  pang  was  in  my  heart,  and  tears  came  to  my  eyes. 

When  evening  came  we  were  all  wide  awake,  and  sat  till  a  very 
late  hour  round  the  fire  we  had  made  in  the  hollow,  sipping  mate 
and  conversing.  We  were  all  in  a  talkative  mood  that  evening,  and 
after  the  ordinary  subjects  of  Banda  Oriental  conversation  had  been 
exhausted,  we  drifted  into  matters  extraordinary — wild  creatures  of 
strange  appearance  and  habits,  apparitions,  and  marvellous  adven- 
tures. 

"The  manner  in  which  the  lampalagua  captures  its  prey  is  very 
curious,"  said  one  of  the  company,  named  Rivarola,  a  stout  man 
with  an  immense,  fierce-looking  black  beard  and  moustache,  but 
who  was  very  mild-eyed  and  had  a  gentle,  cooing  voice. 

We  had  all  heard  of  the  lampalagua,  a  species  of  boa  found  in 
these  countries,  with  a  very  thick  body  and  extremely  sluggish  in 
its  motions.  It  preys  on  the  larger  rodents,  and  captures  them,  I 
believe,  by  following  them  into  their  burrows,  where  they  cannot 
escape  from  its  jaws  by  running. 

"I  will  tell  you  what  I  once  witnessed,  for  I  have  never  seen  a 
stranger  thing,"  continued  Rivarola.  "Riding  one  day  through  a 
forest  I  saw  some  distance  before  me  a  fox  sitting  on  the  grass 
watching  my  approach.  Suddenly  I  saw  it  spring  high  up  into  the 
air,  uttering  a  great  scream  of  terror,  then  fall  back  upon  the  earth, 
where  it  lay  for  some  time  growling,  struggling,  and  biting  as  if 
engaged  in  deadly  conflict  with  some  visible  enemy.  Presently  it 
began  to  move  away  through  the  wood,  but  very  slowly  and  still 
frantically  struggling.  It  seemed  to  be  getting  exhausted,  its  tail 
dragged,  the  mouth  foamed,  and  the  tongue  hung  out,  while  it  still 
moved  on  as  if  drawn  by  an  unseen  cord.  I  followed,  going  very 
close  to  it,  but  it  took  no  notice  of  me.  Sometimes  it  dug  its  claws 


Cfie  Ipitrple  JLann 


into  the  ground  or  seized  a  twig  or  stalk  with  its  teeth,  and  it  would 
then  remain  resting  for  a  few  moments  till  the  twig  gave  away, 
when  it  would  roll  over  many  times  on  the  ground,  loudly  yelping, 
but  still  dragged  onwards.  Presently  I  saw  in  the  direction  we  were 
going  a  huge  serpent,  thick  as  a  man's  thigh,  its  head  lifted  high 
above  the  grass,  and  motionless  as  a  serpent  of  stone.  Its  cavernous, 
blood-red  mouth  was  gaping  wide,  and  its  eyes  were  fixed  on  the 
struggling  fox.  When  about  twenty  yards  from  the  serpent  the  fox 
began  moving  very  rapidly  over  the  ground,  its  struggles  growing 
feebler  every  moment,  until  it  seemed  to  fly  through  the  air,  and  in 
an  instant  was  in  the  serpent's  mouth.  Then  the  reptile  dropped  its 
head  and  began  slowly  swallowing  its  prey." 

"And  you  actually  witnessed  this  yourself?"  said  I. 

"With  these  eyes,"  he  returned,  indicating  the  orbs  in  question 
by  pointing  at  them  with  the  tube  of  the  mate-cup  he  held  in  his 
hand.  "This  was  the  only  occasion  on  which  I  have  actually  seen  the 
lampalagua  take  its  prey,  but  its  manner  of  doing  it  is  well  known 
to  everyone  from  hearsay.  You  see,  it  draws  an  animal  towards  it 
by  means  of  its  power  of  suction.  Sometimes,  when  the  animal 
attacked  is  very  strong  or  very  far  off  —  say  two  thousand  yards  —  the 
serpent  becomes  so  inflated  with  the  quantity  of  air  inhaled  while 
drawing  the  victim  towards  it  -  " 

"That  it  bursts?"  I  suggested. 

"That  it  is  obliged  to  stop  drawing  to  blow  the  wind  out.  When 
this  happens,  the  animal,  finding  itself  released  from  the  drawing 
force,  instantly  sets  off  at  full  speed.  Vain  effort!  The  serpent  has 
no  sooner  discharged  the  accumulated  wind  with  a  report  like  a 
cannon  -  " 

"No,  no,  like  a  musket  !  I  have  heard  it  myself,"  interrupted  Bias 
Aria,  one  of  the  listeners. 

"Like  a  musket,  than  it  once  more  brings  its  power  of  suction  to 
bear;  and  in  this  manner  the  contest  continues  until  the  victim  is 
finally  drawn  into  the  monster's  jaws.  It  is  well  known  that  the 
lampalagua  is  the  strongest  of  all  God's  creatures,  and  that  if  a 
man,  stripped  to  the  skin,  engages  one,  and  conquers  it  by  sheer 

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muscular  strength,  the  serpent's  power  goes  into  him,  after  which 
he  is  invincible." 

I  laughed  at  this  fable,  and  was  severely  rebuked  for  my  levity. 

"I  will  tell  you  the  strangest  thing  that  ever  befell  me,"  said 
Bias  Aria.  "I  happened  to  be  travelling  alone — for  reasons — on  the 
northern  frontier.  I  crossed  the  River  Yaguaron  into  Brazilian  terri- 
tory, and  for  a  whole  day  rode  through  a  great  marshy  plain,  where 
the  reeds  were  dead  and  yellow,  and  the  water  shrunk  into  muddy 
pools.  It  was  a  place  to  make  a  man  grow  weary  of  life.  When  the 
sun  was  going  down,  and  I  began  to  despair  of  getting  to  the  end 
of  this  desolation,  I  discovered  a  low  hovel  made  of  mud  and 
thatched  with  rushes.  It  was  about  fifteen  yards  long,  with  only  one 
small  door,  and  seemed  to  be  uninhabited,  for  no  person  answered 
me  when  I  rode  round  it  shouting  aloud.  I  heard  a  grunting  and 
squealing  within,  and  by  and  by  a  sow,  followed  by  a  litter  of 
young  pigs,  came  out,  looked  at  me,  then  went  in  again.  I  would 
have  ridden  on,  but  my  horses  were  tired;  besides,  a  great  storm 
with  thunder  and  lightning  was  coming  up,  and  no  other  shelter 
appeared  in  sight.  I  therefore  unsaddled,  loosed  my  horses  to  feed, 
and  took  my  gear  into  the  hovel.  The  room  I  entered  was  so  small 
that  the  sow  and  her  young  occupied  all  the  floor;  there  was,  how- 
ever, another  room,  and,  opening  the  door,  which  was  closed,  I 
went  into  it,  and  found  that  it  was  very  much  larger  than  the  first; 
also,  that  it  contained  a  dirty  bed  made  of  skins  in  one  corner,  while 
on  the  floor  was  a  heap  of  ashes  and  a  black  pot.  There  was  nothing 
else  except  old  bones,  sticks,  and  other  rubbish  littering  the  floor. 
Afraid  of  being  caught  unawares  by  the  owner  of  this  foul  den,  and 
finding  nothing  to  eat  in  it,  I  returned  to  the  first  room,  turned 
the  pigs  out  of  doors,  and  sat  down  on  my  saddle  to  wait.  It  was 
beginning  to  get  dark  when  a  woman,  bringing  in  a  bundle  of  sticks, 
suddenly  appeared  at  the  door.  Never,  sirs,  have  I  beheld  a  fouler, 
more  hideous  object  than  this  person.  Her  face  was  hard,  dark,  and 
rough  like  the  bark  of  the  nandubuy  tree,  while  her  hair,  which 
covered  her  head  and  shoulders  in  a  tangled  mass,  was  of  a  dry, 
earthy  colour.  Her  body  was  thick  and  long,  yet  she  looked  like  a 
dwarf,  for  she  scarcely  had  any  legs,  only  enormous  knees  and  feet; 


Cfte  Purple  JLanD 

and  her  garments  were  old  ragged  horse-rugs  tied  round  her  body 
with  thongs  of  hide.  She  stared  at  me  out  of  a  pair  of  small  black 
rat  eyes,  then,  setting  down  her  bundle,  asked  me  what  I  wanted. 
I  told  her  I  was  a  tired  traveller,  and  wanted  food  and  shelter. 
'Shelter  you  can  have:  food  there  is  none,'  she  said;  then,  taking  up 
her  sticks,  she  passed  to  the  inner  room  and  secured  it  with  a  bolt 
on  the  inside.  She  had  not  inspired  me  with  love,  and  there  was 
little  danger  of  my  attempting  to  intrude  on  her  there.  It  was  a 
black,  stormy  night,  and  very  soon  the  rain  began  to  fall  in  torrents. 
Several  times  the  sow,  with  her  young  pigs  loudly  squealing,  came 
in  for  shelter,  and  I  was  forced  to  get  up  and  beat  them  out  with 
my  whip.  At  length,  through  the  mud  partition  separating  the  two 
rooms,  I  heard  the  crackling  of  a  fire  which  the  vile  woman  was 
lighting;  and,  before  long,  through  the  chinks  came  the  savoury 
smell  of  roast  meat.  That  surprised  me  greatly,  for  I  had  searched 
the  room  and  failed  to  find  anything  to  eat  in  it.  I  concluded  that 
she  had  brought  in  the  meat  under  her  garments,  but  where  she 
had  got  it  was  a  mystery.  At  length  I  began  to  doze.  There  were 
many  sounds  in  my  ear  as  of  thunder  and  wind,  the  pigs  grunting 
at  the  door,  and  the  crackling  of  the  fire  in  the  hag's  room.  But  by 
and  by  other  sounds  seemed  to  mingle  with  these — voices  of  several 
persons  talking,  laughing,  and  singing.  At  length  I  became  wide 
awake,  and  found  that  these  voices  proceeded  from  the  next  room. 
Some  person  was  playing  a  guitar  and  singing,  then  others  were 
loudly  talking  and  laughing.  I  tried  to  peep  through  the  cracks  in 
the  door  and  partition,  but  could  not  see  through  them.  High  up 
in  the  middle  of  the  wall  there  was  one  large  crack  through  which 
I  was  sure  the  interior  could  be  seen,  so  much  red  firelight  streamed 
through  it.  I  placed  my  saddle  against  the  partition,  and  all  my 
rugs  folded  small,  one  above  the  other,  until  I  had  heaped  them  as 
high  as  my  knees.  Standing  on  my  toes  on  this  pile,  and  carefully 
clinging  to  the  wall  with  my  finger-nails,  I  managed  to  bring  my 
eyes  to  a  level  with  the  crack,  and  peeped  through  it.  The  room 
inside  was  brightly  lighted  by  a  big  wood  fire  burning  at  one  end, 
while  on  the  floor  a  large  crimson  cloak  was  spread,  on  which  the 
people  I  had  heard  were  sitting  with  some  fruit  arid  bottles  of  wine 

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before  them.  There  was  the  foul  hag,  looking  almost  as  tall  sitting 
as  she  had  appeared  when  standing;  she  was  playing  on  a  guitar 
and  singing  a  ballad  in  Portuguese.  Before  her  on  the  cloak  lay  a 
tall,  well-formed  negro  woman,  wearing  only  a  narrow  white  cloth 
round  her  loins,  and  broad  silver  armlets  on  her  round  black  arms. 
She  was  eating  a  banana,  and  against  her  knees,  which  were  drawn 
up,  sat  a  beautiful  girl  about  fifteen  years  old,  with  a  dark  pale 
face.  She  was  dressed  in  white,  her  arms  were  bare,  and  round  her 
head  she  wore  a  gold  band  keeping  back  her  black  hair,  which  fell 
unbound  on  her  back.  Before  her,  on  his  knees  on  the  cloak,  was 
an  old  man  with  a  face  brown  and  wrinkled  as  a  walnut,  and  beard 
white  as  thistle-down.  With  one  of  his  hands  he  was  holding  the 
girl's  arm,  and  with  the  other  offering  her  a  glass  of  wine.  All  this 
I  saw  at  one  glance,  and  then  all  of  them  together  turned  their 
eyes  up  at  the  crack  as  if  they  knew  that  someone  was  watching 
them.  I  started  back  in  alarm,  and  fell  with  a  crash  to  the  ground. 
Then  I  heard  loud  screams  of  laughter,  but  I  dared  not  attempt 
to  look  in  on  them  again*  I  took  my  rugs  to  the  farther  side  of 
the  room,  and  sat  down  to  wait  for  morning.  The  talking  and 
laughter  continued  for  about  two  hours,  then  it  gradually  died 
away,  the  light  faded  from  the  chinks,  and  all  was  dark  and  silent. 
No  person  came  out;  and  at  last,  overcome  with  drowsiness,  I  fell 
asleep.  It  was  day  when  I  woke.  I  rose  and  walked  round  the  hovel, 
and,  finding  a  crack  in  the  wall,  I  peered  into  the  hag's  room.  It 
looked  just  as  I  had  seen  it  the  day  before;  there  was  the  pot  and 
pile  of  ashes,  and  in  the  corner  the  brutish  woman  lying  asleep  in 
her  skins.  After  that  I  got  on  to  my  horse  and  rode  away.  May  I 
never  again  have  such  an  experience  as  I  had  that  night." 

Something  was  then  said  about  witchcraft  by  the  others,  all  look- 
ing very  solemn. 

"You  were  very  hungry  and  tired  that  night,"  I  ventured  to  re- 
mark, "and  perhaps  after  the  woman  locked  her  door  you  went 
to  sleep  and  dreamed  all  that  about  people  eating  fruit  and  playing 
on  the  guitar." 

"Our  horses  were  tired  and  we  were  flying  for  our  lives  yester- 

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Cfte  purple  ILanD 

day,"  returned  Bias  contemptuously.  "Perhaps  it  made  us  dream 
that  we  caught  five  dun  horses  to  carry  us." 

"When  a  person  is  incredulous,  it  is  useless  arguing  with  him," 
said  Mariano,  a  small  dark  grey-haired  man.  "I  will  now  tell  you  a 
strange  adventure  I  had  when  I  was  a  young  man;  but  remember 
I  do  not  put  a  blunderbuss  to  any  man's  breast  to  compel  him  to 
believe  me.  For  what  is,  is;  and  let  him  that  disbelieves  shake  his 
head  till  he  shakes  it  off,  and  it  falls  to  the  ground  like  a  cocoanut 
from  the  tree. 

"After  I  got  married  I  sold  my  horses,  and,  taking  all  my  money, 
purchased  two  ox-carts,  intending  to  make  my  living  by  carrying 
freight.  One  cart  I  drove  myself,  and  to  drive  the  other  I  hired  a 
boy  whom  I  called  Mula,  though  that  was  not  the  name  his  god- 
fathers gave  him,  but  because  he  was  stubborn  and  sullen  as  a  mule. 
His  mother  was  a  poor  widow,  living  near  me,  and  when  she  heard 
about  the  ox-carts  she  came  to  me  with  her  son  and  said,  'Neighbour 
Mariano,  for  your  mother's  sake,  take  my  son  and  teach  him  to  earn 
his  bread,  for  he  is  a  boy  that  loves  not  to  do  anything.'  So  I  took 
Mula  and  paid  the  widow  for  his  services  after  each  journey.  When 
there  was  no  freight  to  be  had  I  sometimes  went  to  the  lagoons  to 
cut  rushes,  and,  loading  the  carts  with  them,  we  would  go  about 
the  country  to  sell  the  rushes  to  those  who  required  them  to  thatch 
their  houses.  Mula  loved  not  this  work.  Often  when  we  were  all  day 
wading  up  to  our  thighs  in  the  water,  cutting  the  rushes  down 
close  to  their  roots,  then  carrying  them  in  large  bundles  on  our 
shoulders  to  land,  he  would  cry,  complaining  bitterly  of  his  hard 
lot.  Sometimes  I  thrashed  him,  for  it  angered  me  to  see  a  poor  boy 
so  fastidious:  then  he  would  curse  me  and  say  that  some  day  he 
would  have  his  revenge.  'When  I  am  dead,'  he  often  told  me,  'my 
ghost  will  come  to  haunt  and  terrify  you  for  all  the  blows  you  have 
given  me.'  This  always  made  me  laugh. 

"At  last,  one  day,  while  crossing  a  deep  stream,  swollen  with 
rains,  my  poor  Mula  fell  down  from  his  perch  on  the  shaft  and  was 
swept  away  by  the  current  into  deep  water  and  drowned.  Well. 
sirs,  about  a  year  after  that  event  I  was  out  in  search  of  a  couple 
of  strayed  oxen  when  night  overtook  me  a  long  distance  from 

161 


Cfte  purple  LanD 

home.  Between  me  and  my  house  there  was  a  range  of  hills  running 
down  to  a  deep  river,  so  close  that  there  was  only  a  narrow  passage 
to  get  through,  and  for  a  long  distance  there  was  no  other  opening. 
When  I  reached  the  pass  I  fell  into  a  narrow  path  with  bushes  and 
trees  growing  on  either  side;  here,  suddenly,  the  figure  of  a  young 
man  stepped  out  from  the  trees  and  stood  before  me.  It  was  all  in 
white — poncho,  chin-pa,  drawers,  even  its  boots,  and  wore  a  broad- 
brimmed  straw  hat  on  its  head.  My  horse  stood  still  trembling; 
nor  was  I  less  frightened,  for  my  hair  rose  up  on  my  head  like 
bristles  on  a  pig's  back;  and  the  sweat  broke  out  on  my  face  like 
raindrops.  Not  a  word  said  the  figure;  only  it  remained  standing 
still  with  arms  folded  on  its  breast,  preventing  me  from  passing. 
Then  I  cried  out,  'In  Heaven's  name,  who  are  you,  and  what  do 
you  want  with  Mariano  Montes  de  Oca,  that  you  bar  his  path?' 
At  this  speech  it  laughed;  then  it  said,  'What,  does  my  old  master 
not  know  me?  I  am  Mula;  did  I  not  often  tell  you  that  some  day 
I  should  return  to  pay  you  out  for  all  the  thrashings  you  gave 
me?  Ah,  Master  Mariano,  you  see  I  have  kept  my  word!'  Then  it 
began  to  laugh  again.  'May  ten  thousand  curses  light  on  your  head!' 
I  shouted.  'If  you  wish  for  my  life,  Mula,  take  it  and  be  for  ever 
damned;  or  else  let  me  pass,  and  go  back  to  Satan,  your  master, 
and  tell  him  from  me  to  keep  a  stricter  watch  on  your  movements ; 
for  why  should  the  stench  of  purgatory  be  brought  to  my  nostrils 
before  my  time!  And  now,  hateful  ghost,  what  more  have  you  got 
to  say  to  me?'  At  this  speech  the  ghost  shouted  with  laughter, 
slapping  its  thighs,  and  doubling  itself  up  with  mirth.  At  last,  when 
it  was  able  to  speak,  it  said,  'Enough  of  this  fooling,  Mariano.  I  did 
not  intend  frightening  you  so  much;  and  it  is  no  great  matter  if  I 
have  laughed  a  little  at  you  now,  for  you  have  often  made  me  cry. 
I  stopped  you  because  I  had  something  important  to  say.  Go  to  my 
mother  and  tell  her  you  have  seen  and  spoken  with  me;  tell  her  to 
pay  for  another  mass  for  my  soul's  repose,  for  after  that  I  shall  be 
out  of  purgatory.  If  she  has  no  money  lend  her  a  few  dollars  for 
the  mass,  and  I  will  repay  you,  old  man,  in  another  world.' 

"This  it  said  and  vanished.  I  lifted  my  whip,  but  needed  not  to 
strike  my  horse,  for  not  a  bird  that  has  wings  could  fly  faster  than 

162 


Cfte  Purple  LanD 

he  now  flew  with  me  on  his  back.  No  path  was  before  me,  nor  did 
I  know  where  we  were  going.  Through  rushes  and  through 
thickets,  over  burrows  of  wild  animals,  stones,  rivers,  marshes,  we 
flew  as  if  all  the  devils  that  are  on  the  earth  and  under  it  were  at 
our  heels;  and  when  the  horse  stopped  it  was  at  my  own  door.  I 
stayed  not  to  unsaddle  him,  but,  cutting  the  surcingle  with  my 
knife,  left  him  to  shake  the  saddle  off;  then  with  the  bridle  I  ham- 
mered on  the  door,  shouting  to  my  wife  to  open.  I  heard  her 
fumbling  for  the  tinder-box.  'For  the  love  of  Heaven,  woman, 
strike  no  light,'  I  cried.  'Santa  Barbara  bendital  have  you  seen  a 
ghost?'  she  exclaimed,  opening  to  me.  'Yes,'  I  replied,  rushing  in 
and  bolting  the  door,  'and  had  you  struck  a  light  you  would  now 
have  been  a  widow.' 

"For  thus  it  is,  sirs,  the  man  who  after  seeing  a  ghost  is  con- 
fronted with  a  light  immediately  drops  down  dead." 

I  made  no  sceptical  remarks,  and  did  not  even  shake  my  head. 
The  circumstances  of  the  encounter  were  described  by  Mariano 
with  such  graphic  power  and  minuteness  that  it  was  impossible  not 
to  believe  his  story.  Yet  some  things  in  it  afterwards  struck  me  as 
somewhat  absurd;  that  straw  hat,  for  instance,  and  it  also  seemed 
strange  that  a  person  of  Mula's  disposition  should  have  been  so 
much  improved  in  temper  by  his  sojourn  in  a  warmer  place. 

"Talking  of  ghosts—  "  said  Laralde,  the  other  man — but  pro- 
ceeded no  further,  for  I  interrupted  him.  Laralde  was  a  short, 
broad-shouldered  man,  with  bow  legs  and  bushy  grey  whiskers; 
he  was  called  by  his  familiars  Lechuza  (owl)  on  account  of  his 
immense,  round,  tawny-coloured  eyes,  which  had  a  tremendous 
staring  power  in  them. 

I  thought  we  had  had  enough  of  the  supernatural  by  this  time. 

"My  friend,"  I  said,  "pardon  me  for  interrupting  you;  but  there 
will  be  no  sleep  for  us  to-night  if  we  have  any  more  stories  about 
spirits  from  the  other  world." 

"Talking  of  ghosts—  "  resumed  Lechuza,  without  noticing  my 
remark,  and  this  nettled  me;  so  I  cut  in  once  more: 

"I  protest  that  we  have  heard  quite  enough  about  them,"  I  said. 
"This  conversation  was  only  to  be  about  rare  and  curious  things. 

163 


Cfte  Purple  JLanD 

Now,  visitors  from  the  other  world  are  very  common.  I  put  it  to 
you,  my  friends — have  you  not  all  seen  more  ghosts  than  lampala- 
guas  drawing  foxes  with  their  breath?" 

"I  have  seen  that  once  only,"  said  Rivarola  gravely.  "I  have 
often  seen  ghosts." 

The  others  also  confessed  to  having  seen  more  than  one  ghost 
apiece. 

Lechuza  sat  inattentive,  smoking  his  cigarette,  and  when  we  had 
all  done  speaking  began  again. 

"Talking  of  ghosts- 
Nobody  interrupted  him  this  time,  though  he  seemed  to  expect 
it,  for  he  made  a  long,  deliberate  pause. 

"Talking  of  ghosts,"  he  repeated,  staring  around  him  tri- 
umphantly, "I  once  had  an  encounter  with  a  strange  being  that  was 
not  a  ghost.  I  was  a  young  man  then — young  and  full  of  the  fire, 
strength,  and  courage  of  youth — for  what  I  am  now  going  to  relate 
happened  over  twenty  years  ago.  I  had  been  playing  cards  at  a 
friend's  house,  and  left  it  at  midnight  to  ride  to  my  father's  house, 
a  distance  of  five  leagues.  I  had  quarrelled  that  evening  and  left  a 
loser,  burning  with  anger  against  the  man  who  had  cheated  and 
insulted  me,  and  with  whom  I  was  not  allowed  to  fight.  Vowing 
vengeance  on  him,  I  rode  away  at  a  fast  gallop;  the  night  being 
serene,  and  almost  as  light  as  day,  for  the  moon  was  at  its  full. 
Suddenly  I  saw  before  me  a  huge  man  sitting  on  a  white  horse, 
which  stood  perfectly  motionless  directly  in  my  path.  I  dashed  on 
till  I  came  near  him,  then  shouted  aloud.  'Out  of  my  path,  friend, 
lest  I  ride  over  you';  for  I  was  still  raging  in  my  heart. 

"Seeing  that  he  took  no  notice  of  my  words,  I  dug  my  spurs 
into  my  horse  and  hurled  myself  against  him;  then  at  the  very  mo- 
ment my  horse  struck  his  with  a  tremendous  shock,  I  brought  down 
my  iron  whip-handle  with  all  the  force  that  was  in  me  upon  his 
head.  The  blow  rang  as  if  I  had  struck  upon  an  anvil,  while  at  the 
same  moment  he,  without  swerving,  clutched  my  cloak  with  both 
hands.  I  could  feel  that  they  were  bony,  hard  hands,  armed  with 
long,  crooked,  sharp  talons  like  an  eagle's,  which  pierced  through 
my  cloak  into  my  flesh.  Dropping  my  whip,  I  seized  him  by  the 

164 


Cfje  putple  JLanD 

throat,  which  seemed  scaly  and  hard,  between  my  hands,  and  thus, 
locked  together  in  a  desperate  struggle,  we  swayed  this  way  and 
that,  each  trying  to  drag  the  other  from  his  seat  till  we  came  down 
together  with  a  crash  upon  the  earth.  In  a  moment  we  were  dis- 
engaged and  on  our  feet.  Quick  as  lightning  flashed  out  his  long, 
sharp  weapon,  and,  finding  I  was  too  late  to  draw  mine,  I  hurled 
myself  against  him,  seizing  his  armed  hand  in  both  mine  before  he 
could  strike.  For  a  few  moments  he  stood  still,  glaring  at  me  out 
of  a  pair  of  eyes  that  shone  like  burning  coals;  then,  mad  with 
rage,  he  flung  me  of!  my  feet  and  whirled  me  round  and  round  like 
a  ball  in  a  sling,  and  finally  cast  me  from  him  to  a  distance  of  a 
hundred  yards,  so  great  was  his  strength.  I  was  launched  with  tre- 
mendous force  into  the  middle  of  some  thorny  bushes,  but  had  no 
sooner  recovered  from  the  shock  than  out  I  burst  with  a  yell  of  rage 
and  charged  him  again.  For,  you  will  hardly  believe  it,  sirs,  by  some 
strange  chance  I  had  carried  away  his  weapon,  firmly  grasped  in 
my  hands.  It  was  a  heavy  two-edged  dagger,  sharp  as  a  needle,  and 
while  I  grasped  the  hilt  I  felt  the  strength  and  fury  of  a  thousand 
fighting-men  in  me.  As  I  advanced  he  retreated  before  me,  until, 
seizing  the  topmost  boughs  of  a  great  thorny  bush,  he  swung  his 
body  to  one  side  and  wrenched  it  out  of  the  earth  by  the  roots. 
Swinging  the  bush  with  the  rapidity  of  a  whirlwind  round  his 
head,  he  advanced  against  me  and  dealt  a  blow  that  would  have 
crushed  me  had  it  descended  on  me;  but  it  fell  too  far,  for  I  had 
dodged  under  it  to  close  with  him,  and  delivered  a  stab  with  such 
power  that  the  long  weapon  was  buried  to  its  hilt  in  his  bosom. 
He  uttered  a  deafening  yell,  and  at  the  same  moment  a  torrent  of 
blood  spouted  forth,  scalding  my  face  like  boiling  water,  and 
drenching  my  clothes  through  to  the  skin.  For  a  moment  I  was 
blinded ;  but  when  I  had  dashed  the  blood  from  my  eyes  and  looked 
round  he  had  vanished,  horse  and  all. 

"Then,  mounting  my  horse,  I  rode  home  and  told  everyone  what 
had  happened,  showing  the  knife,  which  I  still  carried  in  my  hand. 
Next  day  all  the  neighbours  gathered  at  my  house,  and  we  rode  in 
company  to  the  spot  where  the  fight  had  taken  place.  There  we 


Che  purple  Land 

found  the  bush  torn  up  by  the  roots,  and  all  the  earth  about  it 
ploughed  up  where  we  had  fought.  The  ground  was  also  dyed  with 
blood  for  several  yards  round,  and  where  it  had  fallen  the  grass  was 
withered  up  to  the  roots,  as  if  scorched  with  fire.  We  also  picked 
up  a  cluster  of  hairs — long,  wiry,  crooked  hairs,  barbed  at  the  ends 
like  fish-hooks;  also  three  or  four  scales  like  fish-scales,  only 
rougher,  and  as  large  as  doubloons.  The  spot  where  the  fight  took 
place  is  now  called  La  Canada  del  Diablo,  and  I  have  heard  that 
since  that  day  the  devil  has  never  appeared  corporeally  to  fight  any 
man  in  the  Banda  Oriental." 

Lechuza's  narrative  gave  great  satisfaction.  I  said  nothing,  feel- 
ing half  stupid  with  amazement,  for  the  man  apparently  told  it  in 
the  full  conviction  that  it  was  true,  while  the  other  listeners  ap- 
peared to  accept  every  word  of  it  with  the  most  implicit  faith. 
I  began  to  feel  very  melancholy,  for  evidently  they  expected  some- 
thing from  me  now,  and  what  to  tell  them  I  knew  not.  It  went 
against  my  conscience  to  be  the  only  liar  amongst  these  exceedingly 
veracious  Orientals,  and  so  I  could  not  think  of  inventing  anything. 

"My  friends,"  I  began  at  length,  "I  am  only  a  young  man;  also 
a  native  of  a  country  where  marvellous  things  do  not  often  happen, 
so  that  I  can  tell  you  nothing  to  equal  in  interest  the  stories  I  have 
heard.  I  can  only  relate  a  little  incident  which  happened  to  me  in 
my  own  country  before  I  left  it.  It  is  trivial,  perhaps,  but  will  lead 
me  to  tell  you  something  about  London — that  great  city  you  have 
all  heard  of." 

"Yes,  we  have  heard  of  London;  it  is  in  England,  I  believe.  Tell 
us  your  story  about  London,"  said  Bias  encouragingly. 

"I  was  very  young — only  fourteen  years  old,"  I  continued,  flat- 
tering myself  that  my  modest  introduction  had  not  been  ineffective, 
"when  one  evening  I  came  to  London  from  my  home.  It  was  in 
January,  in  the  middle  of  winter,  and  the  whole  country  was  white 
with  snow." 

"Pardon  me,  Captain,"  said  Bias,  "but  you  have  got  the  cucumber 
by  the  wrong  end.  We  say  that  January  is  in  summer." 

"Not  in  my  country,  where  the  seasons  are  reversed,"  I  said. 

166 


Cbe  Purple  JLanD 

"When  I  rose  next  morning  it  was  dark  as  night,  for  a  black  fog 
had  fallen  upon  the  city." 

"A  black  fog!"  exclaimed  Lechuza. 

"Yes,  a  black  fog  that  would  last  all  days  and  make  it  darker 
than  night,  for  though  the  lamps  were  lighted  in  the  streets  they 
gave  no  light." 

"Demons!"  exclaimed  Rivarola;  "there  is  no  water  in  the  bucket. 
I  must  go  to  the  well  for  some  or  we  shall  have  none  to  drink  in 
the  night." 

"You  might  wait  till  I  finish,"  I  said. 

"No,  no,  Captain,"  he  returned.  "Go  on  with  your  story;  we 
must  not  be  without  water."  And,  taking  up  the  bucket,  he  trudged 
off. 

"Finding  it  was  going  to  be  dark  all  day,"  I  continued,  "I  de- 
termined to  go  a  little  distance  away,  not  out  of  London,  you  will 
understand,  but  about  three  leagues  from  my  hotel  to  a  great  hill, 
where  I  thought  the  fog  would  not  be  so  dark,  and  where  there  is 
a  palace  of  glass." 

"A  palace  of  glass!"  repeated  Lechuza,  with  his  immense  round 
eyes  fixed  sternly  on  me. 

"Yes,  a  palace  of  glass — is  there  anything  so  wonderful  in  that?" 

"Have  you  any  tobacco  in  your  pouch,  Mariano?"  said  Bias. 
"Pardon,  Captain,  for  speaking,  but  the  things  you  are  telling  re- 
quire a  cigarette,  and  my  pouch  is  empty." 

"Very  well,  sirs,  perhaps  you  will  now  allow  me  to  proceed," 
I  said,  beginning  to  feel  rather  vexed  at  these  constant  interruptions. 
"A  palace  of  glass  large  enough  to  hold  all  the  people  in  this 
country." 

"The  Saints  assist  us!  Your  tobacco  is  dry  as  ashes,  Mariano," 
exclaimed  Bias. 

"That  is  not  strange,"  said  the  other,  "for  I  have  had  it  three 
days  in  my  pocket.  Proceed,  Captain.  A  palace  of  glass  large  enough 
to  hold  all  the  people  in  the  world.  And  then?" 

"No,  I  shall  not  proceed,"  I  returned,  losing  my  temper.  "It  is 
plain  to  see  that  you  do  not  wish  to  hear  my  story.  Still,  sirs,  from 
motives  of  courtesy  you  might  have  disguised  your  want  of  interest 

167 


Cfte  Ipurple  Land 


in  what  I  was  about  to  relate;  for  I  have  heard  it  said  that  the  Orien- 
tals are  a  polite  people." 

"There  you  are  saying  too  much,  my  friend,"  broke  in  Lechuza. 
"Remember  that  we  were  speaking  of  actual  experiences,  not  in- 
venting tales  of  black  fogs  and  glass  palaces  and  men  walking  on 
their  heads,  and  I  know  not  what  other  marvels." 

"Do  you  know  that  what  I  am  telling  you  is  untrue?"  I  indig- 
nantly asked. 

"Surely,  friend,  you  do  not  consider  us  such  simple  persons  in 
the  Banda  Oriental  as  not  to  know  truth  from  fable?" 

And  this  from  the  fellow  who  had  just  told  us  of  his  tragical 
encounter  with  Apollyon,  a  yarn  which  quite  put  Bunyan's  narra- 
tive in  the  shade!  It  was  useless  talking;  my  irritation  gave  place  to 
mirth,  and,  stretching  myself  out  on  the  grass,  I  roared  with 
laughter.  The  more  I  thought  of  Lechuza's  stern  rebuke  the  louder 
I  laughed,  until  I  yelled  with  laughter,  slapping  my  thighs  and 
doubling  myself  up  after  the  manner  of  Mariano's  hilarious  visitor 
from  purgatory.  My  companions  never  smiled.  Rivarola  came  back 
with  the  bucket  of  water,  and,  after  staring  at  me  for  some  time, 
said,  "If  the  tears,  which  they  say  always  follow  laughter,  come  in 
the  same  measure,  then  we  shall  have  to  sleep  in  the  wet." 

This  increased  my  mirth. 

"If  the  whole  country  is  to  be  informed  of  our  hiding-place," 
said  Bias  the  timid,  "we  were  putting  ourselves  to  an  unnecessary 
trouble  by  running  away  from  San  Paulo." 

Fresh  screams  of  laughter  greeted  this  protest. 

"I  once  knew  a  man,"  said  Mariano,  "who  had  a  most  extraordi- 
nary laugh;  you  could  hear  it  a  league  away,  it  was  so  loud.  His 
name  was  Aniceto,  but  we  called  him  El  Burro  on  account  of  his 
laugh,  which  sounded  like  the  braying  of  an  ass.  Well,  sirs,  he  one 
day  burst  out  laughing,  like  the  Captain  here,  at  nothing  at  all,  and 
fell  down  dead.  You  see,  the  poor  man  had  aneurism  of  the  heart." 

At  this  I  fairly  yelled,  then,  feeling  quite  exhausted,  I  looked 
apprehensively  at  Lechuza,  for  this  important  member  of  the 
quartet  had  not  yet  spoken. 

With  his  immense,  unspeakably  serious  eyes  fixed  on  me,  he  re- 

168 


Cfte  purple  LanD 

marked  quietly,  "And  this,  my  friends,  is  the  man  who  says  it  is 
wrong  to  steal  horses!" 

But  I  was  past  shrieking  now.  Even  this  rich  specimen  of  topsy- 
turvy Banda  Oriental  morality  only  evoked  a  faint  gurgling  as  I 
rolled  about  on  the  grass,  my  sides  aching,  as  if  I  had  received  a 
good  bruising. 


169 


Cfte  purple  JLanD 


)AY 
_  f 


CHAPTER  XX 

had  just  dawned  when  I  rose  to  join  Mariano  at  the 
fire  he  had  already  kindled  to  heat  the  water  for  his  early 
mate.  I  did  not  like  the  idea  of  lying  there  concealed 
amongst  the  trees  like  some  hunted  animal  for  an  indefinite  time; 
moreover,  I  had  been  advised  by  Santa  Coloma  to  proceed  directly 
to  the  Lomas  de  Rocha,  on  the  south  coast,  in  the  event  of  a  defeat, 
and  this  now  seemed  to  me  the  best  thing  to  do.  It  had  been  very 
pleasant  lying  there  "under  the  greenwood  tree,"  while  those  vera- 
cious stories  of  hags,  lampalaguas,  and  apparitions  had  proved  highly 
entertaining;  but  a  long  spell,  a  whole  month  perhaps,  of  that  kind 
of  life  was  not  to  be  thought  of;  and  if  I  did  not  get  to  Rocha  now, 
before  the  rural  police  were  set  to  catch  runaway  rebels,  it  would 
perhaps  be  impossible  to  do  so  later  on.  I  determined,  therefore,  to 
go  my  own  way,  and,  after  drinking  bitter  mate,  I  caught  and 
saddled  the  dun  horse.  I  really  had  not  deserved  the  severe  censure 
Lechuza  had  passed  on  me  the  previous  evening  in  reference  to 
horse-stealing,  for  I  had  taken  the  dun  with  very  little  more  com- 
punction than  one  is  accustomed  to  feel  in  England  when  "borrow- 
ing" an  umbrella  on  a  rainy  day.  To  all  people  in  all  parts  of  the 
world,  a  time  comes  when  to  appropriate  their  neighbour's  goods 
is  held  not  only  justifiable,  but  even  meritorious;  to  Israelites  in 
Egypt,  Englishmen  under  a  cloud  in  their  own  moist  island,  and  to 
Orientals  running  away  after  a  fight.  By  keeping  the  dun  over 
thirty  hours  in  my  possession  I  had  acquired  a  kind  of  prescriptive 
right  to  it,  and  now  began  to  look  on  it  as  my  very  own;  subse- 
quent experience  of  his  endurance  and  other  good  qualities  enables 
me  to  endorse  the  Oriental  saying  that  a  "stolen  horse  carries  you 
well." 

Bidding  farewell  to  my  companions  in  defeat,  who  had  cer- 

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Cfte  purple  JLanD 

tainly  not  been  frightened  out  of  their  imaginations,  I  rode  forth 
just  when  it  was  beginning  to  grow  light.  Roads  and  houses  I 
studiously  avoided,  travelling  on  at  an  easy  gallop,  which  took  me 
about  ten  miles  an  hour,  till  noon;  then  I  rested  at  a  small  rancho, 
where  I  fed  and  watered  my  horse  and  recruited  my  own  energies 
with  roast  beef  and  bitter  mate.  On  again  till  dark;  by  that  time  I 
had  covered  about  forty  miles,  and  began  to  feel  both  hungry  and 
tired.  I  had  passed  several  ranchos  and  cstancia  houses,  but  was  shy 
of  seeking  entertainment  at  any  of  them,  and  so  went  farther,  only 
to  fare  worse.  When  the  brief  twilight  was  darkening  to  night  I 
came  upon  a  broad  cart-track,  leading,  I  suppose,  to  Montevideo 
from  the  eastern  part  of  the  country,  and,  seeing  a  long,  low  rancho 
near  it,  which  I  recognized  as  a  pulperia,  or  store,  by  the  flagstaff 
planted  before  it,  I  resolved  to  purchase  some  refreshment  for  my- 
self, then  to  ride  on  a  mile  or  two  and  spend  the  night  under  the 
stars — a  safe  roof  if  an  airy  one.  Tying  my  horse  to  the  gate,  I  went 
into  the  porch-like  projection  at  the  end  of  the  rancho,  which  I 
found  divided  from  the  interior  by  the  counter,  with  its  usual  grat- 
ing of  thick  iron  bars  to  protect  the  treasures  of  gin,  rum,  and 
comestibles  from  drunken  or  quarrelsome  customers.  As  soon  as  I 
came  into  the  porch  I  began  to  regret  having  alighted  at  the  place, 
for  there,  standing  at  the  counter,  smoking  and  drinking,  were 
about  a  dozen  very  rough-looking  men.  Unfortunately  for  me,  they 
had  tied  their  horses  under  the  shadow  of  a  clump  of  trees  some  dis- 
tance from  the  gate,  so  that  I  had  missed  seeing  them  on  my  arrival. 
Once  amongst  them,  however,  my  only  plan  was  to  disguise  my 
uneasiness,  be  very  polite,  get  my  refreshments,  then  make  my 
escape  as  speedily  as  possible.  They  stared  rather  hard  at  me,  but 
returned  my  salutation  courteously;  then  going  to  a  disengaged 
corner  of  the  counter,  I  rested  my  left  elbow  on  it  and  called  for 
bread,  a  box  of  sardines,  and  a  tumbler  of  wine. 

"If  you  will  join  me,  senores,  the  table  is  spread,"  said  I ;  but  they 
all  declined  my  invitation  with  thanks,  and  I  began  to  eat  my  bread 
and  sardines. 

They  appeared  to  be  all  persons  living  in  the  immediate  neigh- 
bourhood, for  they  addressed  each  other  familiarly  and  were  con- 

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Cfte  Purple  JLanD 

versing  about  love  matters.  One  of  them,  however,  soon  dropped 
out  of  the  conversation,  and,  edging  away  from  the  others,  stood  a 
little  space  apart,  leaning  against  the  wall  on  the  side  of  the  porch 
farthest  from  me.  I  began  to  notice  this  man  very  particularly,  for 
it  was  plain  to  see  that  I  had  excited  his  interest  in  an  extraordinary 
manner,  and  I  did  not  like  his  scrutiny.  He  was,  without  exception, 
the  most  murderous-looking  villain  I  have  ever  had  the  misfortune 
to  meet:  that  was  the  deliberate  opinion  I  came  to  before  I  formed 
a  closer  acquaintance  with  him.  He  was  a  broad-chested,  powerful- 
looking  man  of  medium  height ;  his  hands  he  kept  concealed  under 
the  large  cloth  poncho  he  wore,  and  he  had  on  a  slouch  hat  that  just 
allowed  his  eyes  to  be  seen  under  the  rim.  They  were  truculent, 
yellowish-green  eyes,  that  seemed  to  grow  fiery  and  dim  and  fiery 
again  by  turns,  yet  never  for  a  single  instant  were  they  averted 
from  my  face.  His  black  hair  hung  to  his  shoulders,  and  he  also  had 
a  bristly  moustache,  which  did  not  conceal  his  brutal  mouth,  nor 
was  there  any  beard  to  hide  his  broad,  swarthy  jowl.  His  jaws  were 
the  only  part  of  him  that  had  any  motion,  while  he  stood  there, 
still  as  a  bronze  statue,  watching  me.  At  intervals  he  ground  his 
teeth,  after  which  he  would  slap  his  lips  together  two  or  three  times, 
while  a  slimy  froth,  most  sickening  to  see,  gathered  at  the  corners 
of  his  mouth. 

"Gandara,  you  are  not  drinking,"  said  one  of  the  gauchos,  turn- 
ing to  him.  He  shook  his  head  slightly  without  speaking  or  taking 
his  eyes  off  my  face;  whereupon  the  man  who  had  spoken  smiled 
and  resumed  his  conversation  with  the  others. 

The  long,  intense,  soul-trying  scrutiny  this  brutal  wretch  had 
subjected  me  to  came  to  a  very  sudden  end.  Quick  as  lightning  a 
long,  broad  knife  flashed  out  from  its  concealment  under  his 
poncho,  and  with  one  cat-like  bound  he  was  before  me,  the  point 
of  his  horrid  weapon  touching  my  poncho  just  over  the  pit  of  my 
stomach. 

"Do  not  move,  rebel,"  he  said  in  a  husky  voice.  "If  you  move 
one  hair's  breadth,  that  moment  you  die." 

The  other  men  all  ceased  talking  and  looked  on  with  some  in- 
terest, but  did  not  ofTer  to  interfere  or  make  any  remark. 

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Cfte  purple  LanO 

For  one  moment  I  felt  as  if  an  electric  shock  had  gone  through 
me,  and  then  instantly  I  was  calm — never,  in  fact,  have  I  felt  more 
calm  and  collected  than  at  that  terrible  moment.  Tis  a  blessed 
instinct  of  self-preservation  which  nature  has  provided  us  with; 
feeble,  timid  men  possess  it  in  common  with  the  strong  and  brave, 
just  as  weak,  persecuted  wild  animals  have  it  as  well  as  those  that 
are  fierce  and  bloodthirsty.  It  is  the  calm  which  comes  without  call 
when  death  suddenly  and  unexpectedly  rises  up  to  stare  us  in  the 
face;  it  tells  us  that  there  is  one  faint  chance  which  a  premature 
attempt  to  escape  or  even  a  slight  agitation  will  destroy. 

"I  have  no  wish  to  move,  friend,"  I  said,  "but  I  am  curious  to 
know  why  you  attack  me?" 

"Because  you  are  a  rebel.  I  have  seen  you  before,  you  are  one  of 
Santa  Coloma's  officers.  Here  you  shall  stand  with  this  knife  touch- 
ing you  till  you  are  arrested,  or  else  with  this  knife  in  you  here  you 
shall  die." 

"You  are  making  a  mistake, '  I  said. 

"Neighbours,"  said  he,  speaking  to  the  others,  but  without  taking 
his  eyes  from  my  face,  "will  you  tie  this  man  hand  and  foot  while  I 
stand  before  him  to  prevent  him  from  drawing  any  weapon  he  may 
have  concealed  under  his  poncho?" 

"We  have  not  come  here  to  arrest  travellers,"  returned  one  of 
the  men.  "If  he  is  a  rebel  it  is  no  concern  of  ours.  Perhaps  you  are 
mistaken,  Gandara." 

"No,  no,  I  am  not  mistaken,"  he  returned.  "He  shall  not  escape. 
I  saw  him  at  San  Paulo  with  these  eyes — when  did  they  ever  deceive 
me?  If  you  refuse  to  assist  me,  then  go  one  of  you  to  the  Alcalde's 
house  and  tell  him  to  come  without  delay,  while  I  keep  guard 
here." 

After  a  little  discussion  one  of  the  men  offered  to  go  and  inform 
the  Alcalde.  When  he  had  left,  I  said,  "My  friend,  may  I  finish  my 
meal  ?  I  am  hungry,  and  had  just  begun  to  eat  when  you  drew  your 
knife  against  me." 

"Yes;  eat,"  he  said;  "only  keep  your  hands  well  up  so  that  I  can 
see  them.  Perhaps  you  have  a  weapon  at  your  waist." 

173 


Cfte  Purple  JLanD 

"I  have  not,"  I  said,  "for  I  am  an  inoffensive  person  and  do  not 
require  weapons." 

"Tongues  were  made  to  lie,"  he  returned,  truly  enough.  "If  I  see 
you  drop  your  hand  lower  than  the  counter  I  shall  rip  you  up.  We 
shall  then  be  able  to  see  whether  you  digest  your  food  or  not." 

I  began  to  eat  and  sip  my  wine,  still  with  those  brutal  eyes  on 
my  face  and  the  keen  knife-point  touching  my  poncho.  There  was 
now  a  ghastly  look  of  horrible  excitement  on  his  face,  while  his 
teeth-grinding  performances  became  more  frequent  and  the  slimy 
froth  dropped  continually  from  the  corners  of  his  mouth  on  to  his 
bosom.  I  dared  not  look  at  the  knife,  because  a  terrible  impulse  to 
wrest  it  out  of  his  hands  kept  rising  in  me.  It  was  almost  too  strong 
to  be  overcome,  yet  I  knew  that  even  the  slightest  attempt  to  escape 
would  be  fatal  to  me;  for  the  fellow  was  evidently  thirsty  for  my 
blood  and  only  wanted  an  excuse  to  run  me  through.  But  what,  I 
thought,  if  he  were  to  grow  tired  of  waiting,  and,  carried  away  by 
his  murderous  instincts,  to  plunge  his  weapon  into  me  ?  In  that  case 
I  should  die  like  a  dog,  without  having  availed  myself  of  my  one 
chance  of  escape  through  over-caution.  These  thoughts  were  mad- 
dening, still  through  it  all  I  laboured  to  observe  an  outwardly  calm 
demeanour. 

My  supper  was  done.  I  began  to  feel  strangely  weak  and  nervous. 
My  lips  grew  dry ;  I  was  intensely  thirsty  and  longed  for  more  wine, 
yet  dared  not  take  it  for  fear  that  in  my  excited  state  even  a  very 
moderate  amount  of  alcohol  might  cloud  my  brain. 

"How  long  will  it  take  your  friend  to  return  with  the  Alcalde  ?" 
I  asked  at  length. 

Gandara  made  no  reply.  "A  long  time,"  said  one  of  the  other 
men.  "I,  for  one,  cannot  wait  till  he  comes,"  and  after  that  he  took 
his  departure.  One  by  one  they  now  began  to  drop  away,  till  only 
two  men  besides  Gandara  remained  in  the  porch.  Still  that  mur- 
derous wretch  kept  before  me  like  a  tiger  watching  its  prey,  or 
rather  like  a  wild  boar,  gnashing  and  foaming,  and  ready  to  rip  up 
its  adversary  with  horrid  tusk. 

At  length  I  made  an  appeal  to  him,  for  I  began  to  despair  of  the 
Alcalde  coming  to  deliver  me.  "Friend,"  I  said,  "if  you  will  allow 

174 


Cfte  Ipurple  LanD 


me  to  speak,  I  can  convince  you  that  you  are  mistaken.  I  am  a 
foreigner,  and  know  nothing  about  Santa  Coloma." 

"No,  no,"  he  interrupted,  pressing  the  knife-point  warningly 
against  my  stomach,  then  suddenly  withdrawing  it  as  if  about  to 
plunge  it  into  me.  "I  know  you  are  a  rebel.  If  I  thought  the  Alcalde 
were  not  coming  I  would  run  you  through  at  once  and  cut  your 
throat  afterwards.  It  is  a  virtue  to  kill  a  Blanco  traitor,  and  if  you 
do  not  go  bound  hand  and  foot  from  here  then  here  you  must  die. 
What,  do  you  dare  to  say  that  I  did  not  see  you  at  San  Paulo—  that 
you  are  not  an  officer  of  Santa  Coloma  ?  Look,  rebel,  I  will  swear  on 
this  cross  that  I  saw  you  there." 

Suiting  the  action  to  the  word,  he  raised  the  hilt  of  the  weapon 
to  his  lips  to  kiss  the  guard,  which  with  the  handle  formed  a  cross. 
That  pious  action  was  the  first  slip  he  had  made,  and  gave  the  first 
opportunity  that  had  come  to  me  during  all  that  terrible  interview. 
Before  he  had  ceased  speaking,  the  conviction  that  my  time  had 
come  flashed  like  lightning  through  my  brain.  Just  as  his  slimy  lips 
kissed  the  hilt,  my  right  hand  dropped  to  my  side  and  grasped  the 
handle  of  my  revolver  under  my  poncho.  He  saw  the  movement, 
and  very  quickly  recovered  the  handle  of  his  knife.  In  another 
second  of  time  he  would  have  driven  the  blade  through  me;  but 
that  second  was  all  I  now  required.  Straight  from  my  waist,  and 
from  under  my  poncho,  I  fired.  His  knife  fell  ringing  on  to  the 
floor;  he  swerved,  then  fell  back,  coming  to  the  ground  with  a  heavy 
thud.  Over  his  falling  body  I  leaped,  and  almost  before  he  had 
touched  the  ground  was  several  yards  away,  then,  wheeling  round, 
I  found  the  other  two  men  rushing  out  after  me. 

"Back!"  I  shouted,  covering  the  foremost  of  the  two  with  my 
revolver. 

They  instantly  stood  still. 

"We  are  not  following  you,  friend,"  said  one,  "but  only  wish  to 
get  out  of  the  place." 

"Back,  or  I  fire!"  I  repeated,  and  then  they  retreated  into  the 
porch.  They  had  stood  by  unconcerned  while  their  cut-throat  com- 
rade Gandara  was  threatening  my  life,  so  that  I  naturally  felt  angry 
with  them. 

175 


Cfte  Purple  Land 

I  sprang  upon  my  horse,  but,  instead  of  riding  away  at  once, 
stood  for  some  minutes  by  the  gate  watching  the  two  men.  They 
were  kneeling  by  Gandara,  one  opening  his  clothes  to  look  for  the 
wound,  the  other  holding  a  flaring  candle  over  his  ashen,  corpse- 
like  face. 

"Is  he  dead?"  I  asked. 

One  of  the  men  looked  up  and  answered,  "It  appears  so." 
"Then,"  I  returned,  "I  make  you  a  present  of  his  carcass." 
After  that,  digging  my  spurs  into  my  horse,  I  galloped  away. 
Some  readers  might  imagine,  after  what  I  had  related,  that  my 
sojourn  in  the  Purple  Land  had  quite  brutalised  me;  I  am  happy  to 
inform  them  that  it  was  not  so.  Whatever  a  man's  individual  char- 
acter may  happen  to  be,  he  has  always  a  strong  inclination  in  him 
to  reply  to  an  attack  in  the  spirit  in  which  it  is  made.  He  does  not 
call  the  person  who  playfully  ridicules  his  foibles  a  whitened  sepul- 
chre or  an  unspeakable  scoundrel,  and  the  same  principle  holds 
good  when  it  comes  to  actual  physical  fighting.  If  a  French  gentle- 
man were  to  call  me  out,  I  daresay  I  should  go  to  the  encounter 
twirling  my  moustache,  bowing  down  to  the  ground,  all  smiles 
and  compliments;  and  that  I  should  select  my  rapier  with  a  pleasant 
kind  of  feeling,  like  that  experienced  by  the  satirist  about  to  write 
a  brilliant  article  while  picking  out  a  pen  with  a  suitable  nib.  On 
the  other  hand,  if  a  murderous  brute  with  truculent  eyes  and 
gnashing  teeth  attempts  to  disembowel  me  with  a  butcher's  knife, 
the  instinct  of  self-preservation  comes  out  in  all  its  old  original 
ferocity,  inspiring  the  heart  with  such  implacable  fury  that  after 
spilling  his  blood  I  could  spurn  his  loathsome  carcass  with  my  foot. 
I  do  not  wonder  at  myself  for  speaking  those  savage  words.  That 
he  was  past  recall  seemed  certain,  yet  not  a  shade  of  regret  did  I 
feel  at  his  death.  Joy  at  the  terrible  retribution  I  had  been  able  to 
inflict  on  the  murderous  wretch  was  the  only  emotion  I  experienced 
when  galloping  away  into  the  darkness — such  joy  that  I  could  have 
sung  and  shouted  aloud  had  it  not  seemed  imprudent  to  indulge 
in  such  expression  of  feeling. 


176 


Cbe  J^utple  JLanD 


<0rK0>*^v^t^<,0rx^<0r*,0v^^0rx^rx<^^ 


CHAPTER  XXI 

A  FTER  my  terrible  adventure  I  did  not  rest  badly  that  night, 
/==\  albeit  I  slept  on  an  empty  stomach  (the  sardines  counting 
-A-  .)V  as  nothing),  and  under  the  vast,  void  sky,  powdered  with 
innumerable  stars.  And  when  I  proceeded  next  day  on  my  journey, 
God's  light,  as  the  pious  Orientals  call  the  first  wave  of  glory  with 
which  the  rising  sun  floods  the  world,  had  never  seemed  so  pleasant 
to  my  eyes,  nor  had  earth  ever  looked  fresher  or  lovelier,  with  the 
grass  and  bushes  everywhere  hung  with  starry  lace,  sparkling  with 
countless  dewy  gems,  which  the  epeiras  had  woven  overnight.  Life 
seemed  very  sweet  to  me  on  that  morning,  so  softening  my  heart 
that  when  I  remembered  the  murderous  wretch  who  had  endan- 
gered it  I  almost  regretted  that  he  was  now  probably  blind  and  deaf 
to  nature's  sweet  ministrations. 

Before  noon  I  came  to  a  large,  thatched  house,  with  clumps  of 
shady  trees  growing  near  it,  also  surrounded  with  brushwood  fences 
and  sheep  and  cattle  enclosures. 

The  blue  smoke  curling  peacefully  up  from  the  chimney  and 
the  white  gleam  of  the  walls  through  the  shady  trees — for  this 
rancho  actually  boasted  a  chimney  and  whitewashed  walls — looked 
exceedingly  inviting  to  my  tired  eyes.  How  pleasant  a  good  break- 
fast, with  a  long  siesta  in  the  shade  after  it,  would  be,  thought  I; 
but,  alas!  was  I  not  pursued  by  the  awful  phantoms  of  political 
vengeance?  Uncertain  whether  to  call  or  not,  my  horse  jogged 
straight  on  towards  the  house,  for  a  horse  always  knows  when  his 
rider  is  in  doubt  and  never  fails  at  such  times  to  give  his  advice. 
It  was  lucky  for  me  that  on  this  occasion  I  condescended  to  take 
it.  "I  will,  at  all  events,  call  for  a  drink  of  water  and  see  what  the 
people  are  like,"  I  thought,  and  in  a  few  minutes  I  was  standing  at 
the  gate,  apparently  an  object  of  great  interest  to  half  a  dozen 

177 


Cfte  purple  LanO 

children  ranging  from  two  to  thirteen  years  old,  all  staring  at  me 
with  wide-open  eyes.  They  had  dirty  faces,  the  smallest  one  dirty 
legs  also,  for  he  or  she  wore  nothing  but  a  small  shirt.  The  next  in 
size  had  a  shirt  supplemented  with  a  trousers-like  garment  reaching 
to  the  knees;  and  so  on,  progressively,  up  to  the  biggest  boy,  who 
wore  the  cast-off  parental  toggery,  and  so,  instead  of  having  too  little 
on,  was,  in  a  sense,  overdressed.  I  asked  this  youngster  for  a  can  of 
water  to  quench  my  thirst  and  a  stick  of  fire  to  light  my  cigar. 
He  ran  into  the  kitchen,  or  living-room,  and  by  and  by  came  out 
again  without  either  water  or  fire.  "Papita  wishes  you  to  come  in  to 
drink  mate"  said  he. 

Then  I  dismounted,  and,  with  the  careless  air  of  a  blameless, 
non-political  person,  strode  into  the  spacious  kitchen,  where  an  im- 
mense cauldron  of  fat  was  boiling  over  a  big  fire  on  the  hearth; 
while  beside  it,  ladle  in  hand,  sat  a  perspiring,  greasy-looking 
woman  of  about  thirty.  She  was  engaged  in  skimming  the  fat  and 
throwing  the  scum  on  the  fire,  which  made  it  blaze  with  a  furious 
joy  and  loudly  cry  out  in  a  crackling  voice  for  more;  and  from  head 
to  feet  she  was  literally  bathed  in  grease — certainly  the  most  greasy 
individual  I  had  ever  seen.  It  was  not  easy  under  the  circumstances 
to  tell  the  colour  of  her  skin,  but  she  had  fine  large  Juno  eyes,  and 
her  mouth  was  unmistakably  good-humoured,  as  she  smiled  when 
returning  my  salutation.  Her  husband  sat  on  the  clay  floor  against 
the  wall,  his  bare  feet  stretched  straight  out  before  him,  while  across 
his  lap  lay  an  immense  surcingle,  twenty  inches  broad  at  least,  of  a 
pure  white,  untanned  hide;  and  on  it  he  was  laboriously  working 
a  design  representing  an  ostrich  hunt,  with  threads  of  black  skin. 
He  was  a  short,  broad-shouldered  man  with  reddish-grey  hair,  stiff, 
bristly  whiskers  and  moustache  of  the  same  hue,  sharp  blue  eyes, 
and  a  nose  decidedly  upturned. 

He  wore  a  red  cotton  handkerchief  tied  on  his  head,  a  blue  check 
shirt,  and  a  shawl  wound  round  his  body  in  place  of  the  chiripa 
usually  worn  by  native  peasants.  He  jerked  out  his  "Buen  did'  to 
me  in  a  short,  quick,  barking  voice,  and  invited  me  to  sit  down. 

"Cold  water  is  bad  for  the  constitution  at  this  hour,"  he  said. 
"We  will  drink  matt." 

178 


Cfte  Purple  JLann 

There  was  such  a  rough,  burr-like  sound  in  his  speech  that  I  at 
once  concluded  he  was  a  foreigner,  or  hailed  from  some  Oriental 
district  corresponding  to  our  Durham  or  Northumberland. 

"Thank  you,"  I  said,  "a  mate  is  always  welcome.  I  am  an  Orien- 
tal in  that  respect  if  in  nothing  else."  For  I  wished  everyone  I  met 
to  know  that  I  was  not  a  native. 

"Right,  my  friend,"  he  exclaimed.  "Mate  is  the  best  thing  in  this 
country.  As  for  the  people,  they  are  not  worth  cursing." 

"How  can  you  say  such  a  thing,"  I  returned.  "You  are  a 
foreigner,  I  suppose,  but  your  wife  is  surely  an  Oriental." 

The  Juno  of  the  grease-pot  smiled  and  threw  a  ladleful  of  tallow 
on  the  fire  to  make  it  roar;  possibly  this  was  meant  for  applause. 

He  waved  his  hand  deprecatingly,  the  bradawl  used  for  his  work 
in  it. 

"True,  friend,  she  is,"  he  replied.  "Women,  like  horned  cattle, 
are  much  the  same  all  the  world  over.  They  have  their  value  wher- 
ever you  find  them — America,  Europe,  Asia.  We  know  it.  I  spoke 
of  men." 

"You  scarcely  do  women  justice — 

La  mujer  es  un  angel  del  cielo," 

I  returned,  quoting  the  old  Spanish  song. 

He  barked  out  a  short  little  laugh. 

"That  does  very  well  to  sing  to  a  guitar,"  he  said. 

"Talking  of  guitars,"  spoke  the  woman,  addressing  me  for  the 
first  time;  "while  we  are  waiting  for  the  mate,  perhaps  you  will 
sing  us  a  ballad.  The  guitar  is  lying  just  behind  you." 

"Senora,  I  do  not  play  on  it,"  I  answered.  "An  Englishman  goes 
forth  into  the  world  without  that  desire,  common  to  people  of  other 
nations,  of  making  himself  agreeable  to  those  he  may  encounter 
on  his  way;  this  is  why  he  does  not  learn  to  perform  on  musical 
instruments." 

The  little  man  stared  at  me;  then,  deliberately  disencumbering 
himself  of  surcingle,  threads,  and  implements,  he  got  up,  advanced 
to  me,  and  held  out  his  hand. 

179 


Cfte  purple  Hand 

His  grave  manner  almost  made  me  laugh.  Taking  his  hand  in 
mine,  I  said: 

"What  am  I  to  do  with  this,  my  friend?" 

"Shake  it,"  he  replied.  "We  are  countrymen." 

We  then  shook  hands  very  vigorously  for  some  time  in  silence, 
while  his  wife  looked  on  with  a  smile  and  stirred  the  fat. 

"Woman,"  he  said,  turning  to  her,  "leave  your  grease  till  to- 
morrow. Breakfast  must  be  thought  of.  Is  there  any  mutton  in  the 
house?" 

"Half  a  sheep — only,"  she  replied. 

"That  will  do  for  one  meal,"  said  he.  "Here,  Teofilo,  run  and  tell 
Anselmo  to  catch  two  pullets — fat  ones,  mind.  To  be  plucked  at 
once.  You  may  look  for  half  a  dozen  fresh  eggs  for  your  mother  to 
put  in  the  stew.  And,  Felipe,  go  find  Cosme  and  tell  him  to  saddle 
the  roan  pony  to  go  to  the  store  at  once.  Now,  wife,  what  is  wanted 
—rice,  sugar,  vinegar,  oil,  raisins,  pepper,  saffron,  salt,  cloves,  cum- 
min seed,  wine,  brandy " 

"Stop  one  moment,"  I  cried.  "If  you  think  it  necessary  to  get 
provisions  enough  for  an  army  to  give  me  breakfast,  I  must  tell  you 
that  I  draw  the  line  at  brandy.  I  never  touch  it — in  this  country." 

He  shook  hands  with  me  again. 

"You  are  right,"  he  said.  "Always  stick  to  the  native  drink, 
wherever  you  are,  even  if  it  is  black  draught.  Whisky  in  Scotland, 
in  the  Banda  Oriental  rum — that's  my  rule." 

The  place  was  now  in  a  great  commotion,  the  children  saddling 
ponie^,  shouting  in  pursuit  of  fugitive  chickens,  and  my  energetic 
host  ordering  his  wife  about. 

After  the  boy  was  despatched  for  the  things  and  my  horse  taken 
care  of,  we  sat  for  half  an  hour  in  the  kitchen  sipping  mate  and 
conversing  very  agreeably.  Then  my  host  took  me  out  into  his 
garden  behind  the  house  to  be  out  of  his  wife's  way  while  she  was 
engaged  cooking  breakfast,  and  there  he  began  talking  in  English. 

"Twenty-five  years  I  have  been  on  this  continent,"  said  he,  telling 
me  his  history,  "eighteen  of  them  in  the  Banda  Oriental." 

"Well,  you  have  not  forgotten  your  language,"  I  said.  "I  suppose 
you  read?" 

180 


Cfte  purple  JLanD 

"Read!  What!  I  would  as  soon  think  of  wearing  trousers.  No, 
no,  my  friend,  never  read.  Leave  politics  alone.  When  people  molest 
you,  shoot  'em — those  are  my  rules.  Edinburgh  was  my  home.  Had 
enough  reading  when  I  was  a  boy;  heard  enough  psalm-singing, 
saw  enough  scrubbing  and  scouring  to  last  me  my  lifetime.  My 
father  was  a  bookseller  in  the  High  Street,  near  the  Cowgate — you 
know!  Mother,  she  was  pious — they  were  all  pious.  Uncle,  a  minis- 
ter, lived  with  us.  That  was  all  worse  than  purgatory  to  me.  I  was 
educated  at  the  High  School — intended  for  the  ministry,  ha,  ha !  My 
only  pleasure  was  to  get  a  book  of  travels  in  some  savage  country, 
skulk  into  my  room,  throw  off  my  boots,  light  a  pipe,  and  lie  on  the 
floor  reading — locked  up  from  everyone.  Sundays  just  the  same. 
They  called  me  a  sinner,  said  I  was  going  to  the  devil — fast.  It  was 
my  nature.  They  didn't  understand — kept  on  ding-donging  in  my 
ears.  Always  scrubbing,  scouring — you  might  have  eaten  your 
dinner  off  the  floor;  always  singing  psalms — praying — scolding. 
Couldn't  bear  it;  ran  away  at  fifteen,  and  have  never  heard  a  word 
from  home  since.  What  happened?  I  came  here,  worked,  saved, 
bought  land,  cattle;  married  a  wife,  lived  as  I  liked  to  live — am 
happy.  There's  my  wife — mother  of  six  children — you  have  seen 
her  yourself,  a  woman  for  a  man  to  be  proud  of.  No  ding-donging, 
black  looks,  scouring  from  Monday  to  Saturday — you  couldn't  eat 
your  dinner  off  my  kitchen  floor.  There  are  my  children,  six  of  'em, 
all  told,  boys  and  girls,  healthy,  dirty  as  they  like  to  be,  happy  as 
the  day's  long;  and  here  am  I,  John  Carrickfergus — Don  Juan  all 
the  country  over,  my  surname  no  native  can  pronounce — respected, 
feared,  loved;  a  man  his  neighbour  can  rely  on  to  do  him  a  good 
turn;  one  who  never  hesitates  about  putting  a  bullet  in  any  vulture, 
wild  cat,  or  assassin  that  crosses  his  path.  Now  you  know  all." 

"An  extraordinary  history,"  I  said,  "but  I  suppose  you  teach 
your  children  something?" 

"Teach  'em  nothing,"  he  returned,  with  emphasis.  "All  we  think 
about  in  the  old  country  are  books,  cleanliness,  clothes ;  what's  good 
for  soul,  brain,  stomach;  and  we  make  'em  miserable.  Liberty  for 
everyone — that's  my  rule.  Dirty  children  are  healthy,  happy  chil- 
dren. If  a  bee  stings  you  in  England,  you  clap  on  fresh  dirt  to  cure 

181 


Cfte  purple  JLanD 

the  pain.  Here  we  cure  all  kinds  of  pain  with  dirt.  If  my  child  is 
ill  I  dig  up  a  spadeful  of  fresh  mould  and  rub  it  well — best  remedy 
out.  I'm  not  religious,  but  I  remember  one  miracle.  The  Saviour 
spat  on  the  ground  and  made  mud  with  the  spittle  to  anoint  the  eyes 
of  the  blind  man.  Made  him  see  directly.  What  does  that  mean? 
Common  remedy  of  the  country,  of  course.  He  didn't  need  the  clay, 
but  followed  the  custom,  same  as  in  the  other  miracles.  In  Scotland 
dirt's  wickedness — how'd  they  reconcile  that  with  Scripture?  I 
don't  say  Nature,  mind,  I  say,  Scripture,  because  the  Bible's  the  book 
thej  swear  by,  though  they  didn't  write  it." 

"I  shall  think  over  what  you  say  about  children,  and  the  best 
way  to  rear  them,"  I  returned.  "I  needn't  decide  in  a  hurry,  as  I 
haven't  any  yet." 

He  barked  his  short  laugh  and  led  me  back  to  the  house,  where 
the  arrangements  for  breakfast  were  now  completed.  The  children 
took  their  meal  in  the  kitchen,  we  had  ours  in  a  large,  cool  room 
adjoining  it.  There  was  a  small  table  laid  with  a  spotless  white 
cloth,  and  real  crockery  plates  and  real  knives  and  forks.  There  were 
also  real  glass  tumblers,  bottles  of  Spanish  wine,  and  snow-white 
pan  creollo.  Evidently  my  hostess  had  made  good  use  of  her  time. 
She  came  in  immediately  after  we  were  seated,  and  I  scarcely  recog- 
nized her;  for  she  was  not  only  clean  now,  but  good-looking  as 
well,  with  that  rich  olive  colour  on  her  oval  face,  her  black  hair 
well  arranged,  and  her  dark  eyes  full  of  tender,  loving  light.  She 
was  now  wearing  a  white  merino  dress  with  a  quaint  maroon- 
coloured  pattern  on  it,  and  a  white  silk  kerchief  fastened  with  a 
gold  brooch  at  her  neck.  It  was  pleasant  to  look  at  her,  and,  noticing 
my  admiring  glances,  she  blushed  when  she  sat  down,  then  laughed. 
The  breakfast  was  excellent.  Roast  mutton  to  begin,  then  a  dish  of 
chickens  stewed  with  rice,  nicely  flavoured  and  coloured  with  red 
Spanish  pimenton.  A  fowl  roasted  or  boiled,  as  we  eat  them  in 
England,  is  wasted,  compared  with  this  delicious  guiso  de  polio 
which  one  gets  in  any  rancho  in  the  Banda  Oriental.  After  the 
meats  we  sat  for  an  hour  cracking  walnuts,  sipping  wine,  smoking 
cigarettes,  and  telling  amusing  stories;  and  I  doubt  whether  there 
were  three  happier  people  in  all  Uruguay  that  morning  than  the 

182 


Cfje  purple  Land 

un-Scotched  Scotchman,  John  Carrickfergus,  his  un-ding-donging 
native  wife,  and  their  guest,  who  had  shot  his  man  on  the  previous 
evening. 

After  breakfast  I  spread  my  poncho  on  the  dry  grass  under  a 
tree  to  sleep  the  siesta.  My  slumbers  lasted  a  long  time,  and  on 
waking  I  was  surprised  to  find  my  host  and  hostess  seated  on  the 
grass  near  me,  he  busy  ornamenting  his  surcingle,  she  with  the 
mate-cup  in  her  hand  and  a  kettle  of  hot  water  beside  her.  She  was 
drying  her  eyes,  I  fancied,  when  I  opened  mine. 

"Awake  at  last!"  cried  Don  Juan  pleasantly.  "Come  and  drink 
mate.  Wife  just  been  crying,  you  see." 

She  made  a  sign  for  him  to  hold  his  peace. 

"Why  not  speak  of  it,  Candelaria?"  he  said.  "Where  is  the 
harm  ?  You  see,  my  wife  thinks  you  have  been  in  the  wars — a  Santa 
Coloma  man  running  away  to  save  his  throat." 

"How  does  she  make  that  out?"  I  asked  in  some  confusion  and 
very  much  surprised. 

"How !  Don't  you  know  women  ?  You  said  nothing  about  where 
you  had  been — prudence.  That  was  one  thing.  Looked  confused 
when  we  talked  of  the  revolution — not  a  word  to  say  about  it.  More 
evidence.  Your  poncho,  lying  there,  shows  two  big  cuts  in  it.  Torn 
by  thorns,'  said  I.  'Sword-cuts,'  said  she.  We  were  arguing  about  it 
when  you  woke." 

"She  guessed  rightly,"  I  said,  "and  I  am  ashamed  of  myself  for 
not  telling  you  before.  But  why  should  your  wife  cry  ?" 

"Woman  like — woman  like,"  he  answered,  waving  his  hand. 
"Always  ready  to  cry  over  the  beaten  one — that  is  the  only  politics 
they  know." 

"Did  I  not  say  that  woman  is  an  angel  from  heaven,"  I  returned ; 
then,  taking  her  hand,  I  kissed  it.  "This  is  the  first  time  I  have 
kissed  a  married  woman's  hand,  but  the  husband  of  such  a  wife 
will  know  better  than  to  be  jealous." 

"Jealous — ha,  ha!"  he  laughed.  "It  would  have  made  me  prouder 
if  you  had  kissed  her  cheek." 

"Juan — a  nice  thing  to  say!"  exclaimed  his  wife,  slapping  his 
hand  tenderly. 

183 


Cfte  purple  JLattD 

Then  while  we  sipped  mate  I  told  them  the  history  of  my  cam- 
paign, finding  it  necessary,  when  explaining  my  motives  for  joining 
the  rebels,  to  make  some  slight  deviations  from  the  strictest  form  of 
truth.  He  agreed  that  my  best  plan  was  to  go  on  to  Rocha  to  wait 
there  for  a  passport  before  proceeding  to  Montevideo.  But  I  was  not 
allowed  to  leave  them  that  day ;  and,  while  we  talked  over  our  mate, 
Candelaria  deftly  repaired  the  tell-tale  cuts  in  my  poncho. 

I  spent  the  afternoon  making  friends  with  the  children,  who 
proved  to  be  very  intelligent  and  amusing  little  beggars,  telling 
them  some  nonsensical  stories  I  invented,  and  listening  to  their 
bird's-nesting,  armadillo-chasing,  and  other  adventures.  Then  came 
a  late  dinner,  after  which  the  children  said  their  prayers  and  retired, 
then  we  smoked  and  sang  songs  without  an  accompaniment,  and  I 
finished  a  happy  day  by  sinking  to  sleep  in  a  soft,  clean  bed. 

I  had  announced  my  intention  of  leaving  at  daybreak  next  morn- 
ing; and  when  I  woke,  finding  it  already  light,  I  dressed  hastily, 
and,  going  out,  found  my  horse  already  saddled  standing,  with  three 
other  saddled  horses,  at  the  gate.  In  the  kitchen  I  found  Don  Juan, 
his  wife,  and  the  two  biggest  boys  having  their  early  mate.  My  host 
told  me  that  he  had  been  up  an  hour,  and  was  only  waiting  to  wish 
me  a  prosperous  journey  before  going  out  to  gather  up  his  cattle. 
He  at  once  wished  me  good-bye,  and  with  his  two  boys  went  off, 
leaving  me  to  partake  of  poached  eggs  and  coffee — quite  an  English 
breakfast. 

I  then  rose  and  thanked  the  good  senora  for  her  hospitality. 

"One  moment,"  she  said,  when  I  held  out  my  hand,  and,  draw- 
ing a  small  silk  bag  from  her  bosom,  she  offered  it  to  me.  "My  hus- 
band has  given  me  permission  to  present  you  with  this  at  parting. 
It  is  only  a  small  gift,  but  while  you  are  in  this  trouble  and  away 
from  all  your  friends  it  perhaps  might  be  of  use  to  you." 

I  did  not  wish  to  take  money  from  her  after  all  the  kind  treat- 
ment I  had  received,  and  so  allowed  the  purse  to  lie  on  my  open 
hand  where  she  had  placed  it. 

"And  if  I  cannot  accept  it "  I  began. 

"Then  you  will  hurt  me  very  much,"  she  replied.  "Could  you 
do  that  after  the  kind  words  you  spoke  yesterday?" 

184 


Cbe  Purple  JLanD 

I  could  not  resist,  but,  after  putting  the  purse  away,  took  her 
hand  and  kissed  it. 

"Good-bye,  Candelaria,"  I  said,  "you  have  made  me  love  your 
country  and  repent  every  harsh  word  I  have  ever  spoken  against  it." 

Her  hand  remained  in  mine ;  she  stood  smiling,  and  did  not  seem 
to  think  the  last  word  had  been  spoken  yet.  Then,  seeing  her  there 
looking  so  sweet  and  loving,  and  remembering  the  words  her  hus- 
band had  spoken  the  day  before,  I  stooped  and  kissed  her  cheek 
and  lips. 

"Adieu,  my  friend,  and  God  be  with  you,"  she  said. 

I  think  there  were  tears  in  her  eyes  when  I  left  her,  but  I  could 
not  see  clearly,  for  mine  also  had  suddenly  grown  dim. 

And  only  the  day  before  I  had  felt  amused  at  the  sight  of  this 
woman  sitting  hot  and  greasy  over  her  work,  and  had  called  her 
Juno  of  the  grease-pot !  Now,  after  an  acquaintance  of  about  eighteen 
hours,  I  had  actually  kissed  her — a  wife  and  the  mother  of  six 
children,  bidding  her  adieu  with  trembling  voice  and  moist  eyes! 
I  know  that  I  shall  never  forget  those  eyes,  full  of  sweet,  pure 
affection  and  tender  sympathy,  looking  into  mine;  all  my  life  long 
shall  I  think  of  Candelaria,  loving  her  like  a  sister.  Could  any 
woman  in  my  own  ultra-civilised  and  excessively  proper  country 
inspire  me  with  a  feeling  like  that  in  so  short  a  time  ?  I  fancy  not. 
Oh,  civilisation,  with  your  million  conventions,  soul  and  body 
withering  prudishnesses,  vain  education  for  the  little  ones,  going  to 
church  in  best  black  clothes,  unnatural  craving  for  cleanliness, 
feverish  striving  after  comforts  that  bring  no  comfort  to  the  heart, 
are  you  a  mistake  altogether?  Candelaria  and  that  genial  runaway 
John  Carrickfergus  make  me  think  so.  Ah,  yes,  we  are  all  vainly 
seeking  after  happiness  in  the  wrong  way.  It  was  with  us  once  and 
ours,  but  we  despised  it,  for  it  was  only  the  old,  common  happiness 
which  Nature  gives  to  all  her  children,  and  we  went  away  from  it  in 
search  of  another  grander  kind  of  happiness  which  some  dreamer — 
Bacon  or  another — assured  us  we  should  find.  We  had  only  to  con- 
quer Nature,  find  out  her  secrets,  make  her  our  obedient  slave, 
then  the  earth  would  be  Eden,  and  every  man  Adam  and  every 
woman  Eve.  We  are  still  marching  bravely  on,  conquering  Nature, 


Cfte  purple  JLattD 

but  how  weary  and  sad  we  are  getting!  The  old  joy  in  life  and 
gaiety  of  heart  have  vanished,  though  we  do  sometimes  pause  for  a 
few  moments  in  our  long  forced  march  to  watch  the  labours  of 
some  pale  mechanician  seeking  after  perpetual  motion  and  indulge 
in  a  little  dry,  cackling  laugh  at  his  expense. 


186 


Cfte  purple  Land 


CHAPTER  XXII 

A  FTER  leaving  John  and  Candelaria's  home  of  liberty  and 
/—\  love,  nothing  further  worth  recording  happened  till  I  had 
-A.  JA- nearly  reached  the  desired  haven  of  the  Lomas  de  Rocha,  a 
place  which  I  was,  after  all,  never  destined  to  see  except  from  a  great 
distance.  A  day  unusually  brilliant  even  for  this  bright  climate  was 
drawing  to  a  close,  it  being  within  about  two  hours  of  sunset,  when 
I  turned  out  of  my  way  to  ascend  a  hill  with  a  very  long,  ridge-like 
summit,  falling  away  at  one  end,  appearing  like  the  last  sierra  of  a 
range  just  where  it  dies  down  into  the  level  plain;  only  in  this  in- 
stance the  range  itself  did  not  exist.  The  solitary  hill  was  covered 
with  short  tussocks  of  yellow,  wiry  grass,  with  occasional  bushes, 
while  near  the  summit  large  slabs  of  sandstone  appeared  just  above 
the  surface,  looking  like  gravestones  in  some  old  village  churchyard, 
with  all  their  inscriptions  obliterated  by  time  and  weather.  From 
this  elevation,  which  was  about  a  hundred  feet  above  the  plain,  I 
wished  to  survey  the  country  before  me,  for  I  was  tired  and  hungry, 
so  was  my  horse,  and  I  was  anxious  to  find  a  resting-place  before 
night.  Before  me  the  country  stretched  away  in  vast  undulations 
towards  the  ocean,  which  was  not,  however,  in  sight.  Not  the 
faintest  stain  of  vapour  appeared  on  the  immense  crystalline  dome 
of  heaven,  while  the  stillness  and  transparency  of  the  atmosphere 
seemed  almost  preternatural.  A  blue  gleam  of  water,  south-east  of 
where  I  stood  and  many  leagues  distant,  I  took  to  be  the  lake  of 
Rocha;  on  the  western  horizon  were  faint  blue  cloud-like  masses 
with  pearly  peaks.  They  were  not  clouds,  however,  but  the  sierras 
of  the  range  weirdly  named  Cuchilla  de  las  Animus — Ghost-haunted 
Mountains.  At  length,  like  a  person  who  puts  his  binocular  into  his 
pocket  and  begins  to  look  about  him,  I  recalled  my  vision  from  its 
wanderings  over  illimitable  space  to  examine  the  objects  close  at 


Cfte  purple  JLanD 

hand.  On  the  slope  of  the  hill,  sixty  yards  from  my  standpoint,  were 
some  deep  green,  dwarf  bushes,  each  bush  looking  in  that  still 
brilliant  sunshine  as  if  it  had  been  hewn  out  of  a  block  of  malachite ; 
and  on  the  pale  purple  solanaceous  flowers  covering  them  some 
humble-bees  were  feeding.  It  was  the  humming  of  the  bees  coming 
distinctly  to  my  ears  that  first  attracted  my  attention  to  the  bushes; 
for  so  still  was  the  atmosphere  that  at  that  distance  apart — sixty 
yards — two  persons  might  have  conversed  easily  without  raising 
their  voices.  Much  farther  down,  about  two  hundred  yards  from 
the  bushes,  a  harrier  hawk  stood  on  the  ground,  tearing  at  some- 
thing it  had  captured,  feeding  in  that  savage,  suspicious  manner 
usual  with  hawks,  with  long  pauses  between  the  bites.  Over  the 
harrier  hovered  a  brown  milvago  hawk,  a  vulture-like  bird  in  its 
habits,  that  lives  by  picking  up  unconsidered  trifles.  Envious  at 
the  other's  good  fortune,  or  fearing,  perhaps,  that  not  even  the 
crumbs  or  feathers  of  the  feast  were  going  to  be  left,  it  was  perse- 
cuting the  harrier  by  darting  down  at  intervals  with  an  angry 
cry  and  aiming  a  blow  with  its  wing.  The  harrier  methodically 
ducked  its  head  each  time  its  tormentor  rushed  down  at  it,  after 
which  it  would  tear  its  prey  again  in  its  uncomfortable  manner. 
Farther  away,  in  the  depression  running  along  at  the  foot  of  the 
hill,  meandered  a  small  stream  so  filled  with  aquatic  grasses  and 
plants  that  the  water  was  quite  concealed,  its  course  appearing  like 
a  vivid  green  snake,  miles  long,  lying  there  basking  in  the  sunshine. 
At  the  point  of  the  stream  nearest  to  me  an  old  man  was  seated  on 
the  ground,  apparently  washing  himself,  for  he  was  stooping  over 
a  little  pool  of  water,  while  behind  him  stood  his  horse  with  patient, 
drooping  head,  occasionally  switching  off  the  flies  with  its  tail. 
A  mile  farther  on  stood  a  dwelling,  which  looked  to  me  like  an 
old  estancia  house,  surrounded  by  large  shade  trees  growing  singly 
or  in  irregular  clumps.  It  was  the  only  house  near,  but  after  gazing 
at  it  for  some  time  I  concluded  that  it  was  uninhabited.  For  even  at 
that  distance  I  could  see  plainly  that  there  were  no  human  beings 
moving  about  it,  no  horse  or  other  domestic  animal  near,  and  there 
were  certainly  no  hedges  or  enclosures  of  any  description. 

Slowly  I  went  down  the  hill,  and  to  the  old  man  sitting  beside 

188 


Cbe  purple  JLanD 


the  stream.  I  found  him  engaged  in  the  seemingly  difficult  opera- 
tion of  disentangling  a  luxuriant  crop  of  very  long  hair,  which  had 
somehow  —  possibly  from  long  neglect  —  got  itself  into  great  con- 
fusion. He  had  dipped  his  head  into  the  water,  and  with  an  old 
comb,  boasting  about  seven  or  eight  teeth,  was  laboriously  and  with 
infinite  patience  drawing  out  the  long  hairs,  a  very  few  at  a  time. 
After  saluting  him,  I  lit  a  cigarette,  and,  leaning  on  the  neck  of 
my  horse,  watched  his  efforts  for  some  time  with  profound  interest. 
He  toiled  away  in  silence  for  five  or  six  minutes,  then  dipped  his 
head  in  the  water  again,  and,  while  carefully  wringing  the  wet  out, 
he  remarked  that  my  horse  looked  tired. 

"Yes,"  I  replied;  "so  is  his  rider.  Can  you  tell  me  who  lives  in 
that  cstancial" 

"My  master,"  he  returned  laconically. 

"Is  he  a  good-hearted  man  —  one  who  will  give  shelter  to  a 
stranger?"  I  asked. 

He  took  a  very  long  time  to  answer  me,  then  said: 

"He  has  nothing  to  say  about  such  matters." 

"An  invalid?"  I  remarked. 

Another  long  pause;  then  he  shook  his  head  and  tapped  his 
forehead  significantly;  after  which  he  resumed  his  mermaid  task. 

"Demented?"  said  I. 

He  elevated  an  eyebrow  and  shrugged  his  shoulders,  but  said 
nothing. 

After  a  long  silence,  for  I  was  anxious  not  to  irritate  him  with 
too  much  questioning,  I  ventured  to  remark: 

"Well,  they  will  not  set  the  dogs  on  me,  will  they?" 

He  grinned,  and  said  that  it  was  an  establishment  without  dogs. 

I  paid  him  for  his  information  with  a  cigarette,  which  he  took 
very  readily,  and  seemed  to  think  smoking  a  pleasant  relief  after 
his  disentangling  labours. 

"An  estancia  without  dogs,  and  where  the  master  has  nothing 
to  say  —  that  sounds  strange,"  I  remarked  tentatively,  but  he  puffed 
on  in  silence. 

"What  is  the  name  of  the  house?"  I  said,  after  remounting  my 
horse. 


Cfte  Purple  JLanD 

"It  is  a  house  without  a  name,"  he  replied ;  and  after  this  rather 
unsatisfactory  interview  I  left  him  and  slowly  went  on  to  the 
estancia. 

On  approaching  the  house  I  saw  that  there  had  formerly  been 
a  large  plantation  behind  it,  of  which  only  a  few  dead  stumps  now 
remained,  the  ditches  that  had  enclosed  them  being  now  nearly 
obliterated.  The  place  was  ruinous  and  overgrown  with  weeds.  Dis- 
mounting, I  led  my  horse  along  a  narrow  path  through  a  perfect 
wilderness  of  wild  sunflowers,  horehound,  red-weed,  and  thorn- 
apple,  up  to  some  poplar  trees  where  there  had  once  been  a  gate, 
of  which  only  two  or  three  broken  posts  remained  standing  in  the 
ground.  From  the  old  gate  the  path  ran  on,  still  through  weeds, 
to  the  door  of  the  house,  which  was  partly  of  stone  and  partly  of 
red  brick,  with  a  very  steep,  sloping,  tiled  roof.  Beside  the  ruined 
gate,  leaning  against  a  post,  with  the  hot  afternoon  sun  shining 
on  her  uncovered  head,  stood  a  woman  in  a  rusty-black  dress.  She 
was  about  twenty-six  or  twenty-seven  years  old,  and  had  an  un- 
utterably weary,  desponding  expression  on  her  face,  which  was 
colourless  as  marble,  except  for  the  purple  stains  under  her  large, 
dark  eyes.  She  did  not  move  when  I  approached  her,  but  raised  her 
sorrowful  eyes  to  my  face,  apparently  feeling  little  interest  in  my 
arrival. 

I  took  off  my  hat  to  salute  her,  and  said: 

"Senora,  my  horse  is  tired,  and  I  am  seeking  for  a  resting-place; 
can  I  have  shelter  under  your  roof?" 

"Yes,  caballero;  why  not?"  she  returned  in  a  voice  even  more 
significant  of  sorrow  than  her  countenance. 

I  thanked  her,  and  waited  for  her  to  lead  the  way;  but  she  still 
remained  standing  before  me  with  eyes  cast  down,  and  a  hesitating, 
troubled  look  on  her  face. 

"Senora,"  I  began,  "if  a  stranger's  presence  in  the  house  would 
be  inconvenient " 

"No,  no,  senor,  it  is  not  that,"  she  interrupted  quickly.  Then, 
sinking  her  voice  almost  to  a  whisper,  she  said:  "Tell  me,  senor, 
have  you  come  from  the  department  of  Florida?  Have  you — have 
you  been  at  San  Paulo?" 

190 


Cfte  purple  LanD 

I  hesitated  a  little,  then  answered  that  I  had. 

"On  which  side?"  she  asked  quickly,  with  a  strange  eagerness 
in  her  voice. 

"Ah,  senora,"  I  returned,  "why  do  you  ask  me,  only  a  poor 
traveller  who  comes  for  a  night's  shelter,  such  a  question " 

"Why?  Perhaps  for  your  good,  senor.  Remember,  women  are 
not  like  men — implacable.  A  shelter  you  shall  have,  senor;  but  it  is 
best  that  I  should  know." 

"You  are  right,"  I  returned,  "forgive  me  for  not  answering  you 
at  once.  I  was  with  Santa  Coloma — the  rebel." 

She  held  out  her  hand  to  me,  but,  before  I  could  take  it,  with- 
drew it  and,  covering  her  face,  began  to  cry.  Presently  recovering 
herself  and  turning  towards  the  house,  she  asked  me  to  follow. 

Her  gestures  and  tears  had  told  me  eloquently  enough  that  she 
too  belonged  to  the  unhappy  Blanco  party. 

"Have  you,  then,  lost  some  relation  in  this  fight,  senora?"  I 
asked. 

"No,  senor,"  she  replied;  "but  if  our  party  had  triumphed,  per- 
haps deliverance  would  have  come  to  me.  Ah,  no;  I  lost  my  rela- 
tions long  ago — all  except  my  father.  You  shall  know  presently, 
when  you  see  him,  why  our  cruel  enemies  refrained  from  shedding 
his  blood." 

By  that  time  we  had  reached  the  house.  There  had  once  been  a 
verandah  to  it,  but  this  had  long  fallen  away,  leaving  the  walls, 
doors,  and  windows  exposed  to  sun  and  rain.  Lichen  covered  the 
stone  walls,  while,  in  the  crevices  and  over  the  tiled  roof,  weeds 
and  grass  had  flourished;  but  this  vegetation  had  died  with  the 
summer  heats  and  was  now  parched  and  yellow.  She  led  me  into  a 
spacious  room,  so  dimly  lighted  from  the  low  door  and  one  small 
window  that  it  seemed  quite  dark  to  me  coming  from  the  bright 
sunlight.  I  stood  for  a  few  moments  trying  to  accustom  my  eyes  to 
the  gloom,  while  she,  advancing  to  the  middle  of  the  apartment, 
bent  down  and  spoke  to  an  aged  man  seated  in  a  leather-bound 
easy-chair. 

"Papa,"  she  said,  "I  have  brought  in  a  young  man — a  stranger 
who  has  asked  for  shelter  under  our  roof.  Welcome  him,  papa." 

191 


Cfje  purple  JLanD 

Then  she  straightened  herself,  and,  passing  behind  the  chair, 
stood  leaning  on  it,  facing  me. 

"I  wish  you  good  day,  senor,"  I  said,  advancing  with  a  little 
hesitation. 

There  before  me  sat  a  tall,  bent  old  man,  wasted  almost  to  a 
skeleton,  with  a  grey,  desolate  face  and  long  hair  and  beard  of  a 
silver  whiteness.  He  was  wrapped  in  a  light-coloured  poncho,  and 
wore  a  black  skull-cap  on  his  head.  When  I  spoke  he  leant  back  in 
his  seat  and  began  scanning  my  face  with  strangely  fierce,  eager 
eyes,  all  the  time  twisting  his  long,  thin  fingers  together  in  a  nerv- 
ous, excited  manner. 

"What,  Calixto,"  he  exclaimed  at  length,  "is  this  the  way  you 
come  into  my  presence  ?  Ha,  you  thought  I  would  not  recognise 
you!  Down — down,  boy,  on  your  knees!" 

I  glanced  at  his  daughter  standing  behind  him;  she  was  watch- 
ing my  face  anxiously,  and  made  a  slight  inclination  with  her  head. 

Taking  this  as  an  intimation  to  obey  the  old  man's  commands, 
I  went  down  on  my  knees,  and  touched  my  lips  to  the  hand  he 
extended. 

"May  God  give  you  grace,  my  son,"  he  said,  with  tremulous 
voice.  Then  he  continued:  "What,  did  you  expect  to  find  your  old 
father  blind  then  ?  I  would  know  you  amongst  a  thousand,  Calixto. 
Ah,  my  son,  my  son,  why  have  you  kept  away  so  long?  Stand,  my 
son,  and  let  me  embrace  you." 

He  rose  up  tottering  from  his  chair  and  threw  his  arm  about 
me ;  then,  after  gazing  into  my  face  for  some  moments,  deliberately 
kissed  me  on  both  cheeks. 

"Ha,  Calixto,"  he  continued,  putting  his  trembling  hands  upon 
my  shoulders  and  gazing  into  my  face  out  of  his  wild,  sunken  eyes, 
"do  I  need  ask  where  you  have  been?  Where  should  a  Peralta  be 
but  in  the  smoke  of  the  battle,  in  the  midst  of  carnage,  fighting  for 
the  Banda  Oriental  ?  I  did  not  complain  of  your  absence,  Calixto — 
Demetria  will  tell  you  that  I  was  patient  through  all  these  years,  for 
I  knew  you  would  come  back  to  me  at  last  wearing  the  laurel 
wreath  of  victory.  And  I,  Calixto,  what  have  I  worn,  sitting  here  ? 
A  crown  of  nettles!  Yes,  for  a  hundred  years  I  have  worn  it— you 

192 


Cfte  purple  JLanD 

are  my  witness,  Demetria,  my  daughter,  that  I  have  worn  this  crown 
of  stinging-nettles  for  a  hundred  years." 

He  sank  back,  apparently  exhausted,  in  his  chair,  and  I  uttered 
a  sigh  of  relief,  thinking  the  interview  was  now  over.  But  I  was 
mistaken.  His  daughter  placed  a  chair  for  me  at  his  side.  "Sit  here, 
senor,  and  talk  to  my  father,  while  I  have  your  horse  taken  care  of," 
she  whispered,  and  then  quickly  glided  from  the  room.  This  was 
rather  hard  on  me,  I  thought;  but  while  whispering  those  few 
words  she  touched  my  hand  lightly  and  turned  her  wistful  eyes 
with  a  grateful  look  on  mine,  and  I  was  glad  for  her  sake  that  I 
had  not  blundered. 

Presently  the  old  man  roused  himself  again  and  began  talking 
eagerly,  asking  me  a  hundred  wild  questions,  to  which  I  was  com- 
pelled to  reply,  still  trying  to  keep  up  the  character  of  the  long-lost 
son  just  returned  victorious  from  the  wars. 

"Tell  me  where  you  have  fought  and  overcome  the  enemy,"  he 
exclaimed,  raising  his  voice  almost  to  a  scream.  "Where  have  they 
flown  from  you  like  chaff  before  the  wind? — where  have  you 
trodden  them  down  under  your  horses'  hoofs? — name — name  the 
places  and  the  battles  to  me,  Calixto?" 

I  felt  strongly  inclined  just  then  to  jump  up  and  rush  out  of 
the  room,  so  trying  was  this  mad  conversation  to  my  nerves;  but  I 
thought  of  his  daughter  Demetria's  white,  pathetic  face,  and  re- 
strained the  impulse.  Then  in  sheer  desperation  I  began  to  talk 
madly  as  himself.  I  thought  I  would  make  him  sick  of  warlike  sub- 
jects. Everywhere,  I  cried,  we  had  defeated,  slaughtered,  scattered 
to  the  four  winds  of  heaven,  the  infamous  Colorados.  From  the 
sea  to  the  Brazilian  frontier  we  have  been  victorious.  With  sword, 
lance,  and  bayonet  we  have  stormed  and  taken  every  town  from 
Tacuarembo  to  Montevideo.  Every  river  from  the  Yaguaron  to  the 
Uruguay  had  run  red  with  Colorado  blood.  In  forests  and  sierras 
we  had  hunted  them,  flying  like  wild  beasts  from  us;  we  had  cap- 
tured them  in  thousands,  only  to  cut  their  throats,  crucify  them, 
blow  them  from  guns,  and  tear  them  limb  by  limb  to  pieces  with 
wild  horses. 

I  was  only  pouring  oil  on  the  blazing  fire  of  his  insanity. 

193 


Cfte  Purple  JLanD 

"Aha!"  he  shouted,  his  eyes  sparkling,  while  he  wildly  clutched 
my  arm  with  his  skinny,  claw-like  hands,  "did  I  not  know — have  I 
not  said  it?  Did  I  not  fight  for  a  hundred  years,  wading  through 
blood  every  day,  and  then  at  last  send  you  forth  to  finish  the  battle  ? 
And  every  day  our  enemies  came  and  shouted  in  my  ears,  'Victory- 
victory!'  They  told  me  you  were  dead,  Calixto — that  their  weapons 
had  pierced  you,  that  they  had  given  your  flesh  to  be  devoured  of 
wild  dogs.  And  I  shouted  with  laughter  to  hear  them.  I  laughed  in 
their  faces,  and  clapped  my  hands  and  cried  out,  'Prepare  your 
throats  for  the  sword,  traitors,  slaves,  assassins,  for  a  Peralta — even 
Calixto,  devoured  of  wild  dogs — is  coming  to  execute  vengeance! 
What,  will  God  not  leave  one  strong  arm  to  strike  at  the  tyrant's 
breast — one  Peralta  in  all  this  land!  Fly,  miscreants!  Die,  wretches! 
He  has  risen  from  the  grave — he  has  come  back  from  hell,  armed 
with  hell-fire  to  burn  your  towns  to  ashes — to  extirpate  you  utterly 
from  the  earth!'  " 

His  thin,  tremulous  voice  had  risen  towards  the  close  of  this 
mad  speech  to  a  reedy  shriek  that  rang  through  the  quiet,  darken- 
ing house  like  the  long,  shrill  cry  of  some  water-fowl  heard  at  night 
in  the  desolate  marshes. 

Then  he  loosened  his  hold  on  my  arm  and  dropped  back  moan- 
ing and  shivering  into  his  seat.  His  eyes  closed,  his  whole  frame 
trembled,  and  he  looked  like  a  person  just  recovering  from  an 
epileptic  fit;  then  he  seemed  to  sink  to  sleep.  It  was  now  getting 
quite  dark,  for  the  sun  had  been  down  some  time,  and  it  was  with 
the  greatest  relief  that  I  saw  Dona  Demetria  gliding  like  a  ghost 
into  the  room.  She  touched  me  on  the  arm  and  whispered,  "Come, 
senor,  he  is  asleep  now." 

I  followed  her  out  into  the  fresh  air,  which  had  never  seemed 
so  fresh  before;  then,  turning  to  me,  she  hurriedly  whispered,  "Re- 
member, senor,  that  what  you  have  told  me  is  a  secret.  Say  not  one 
word  of  it  to  any  other  person  here." 


194 


Che  Purple  Land 


^^^^C^O^^^^^^^^^^^^6^^^^O^^ 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

[HE  then  led  me  to  the  kitchen  at  the  end  of  the  house.  It  was 
one  of  those  roomy,  old-fashioned  kitchens  still  to  be  found 
in  a  few  estancia  houses  built  in  colonial  times,  in  which  the 
fireplace,  raised  a  foot  or  two  above  the  floor,  extends  the  whole 
width  of  the  room.  It  was  large  and  dimly  lighted,  the  walls  and 
rafters  black  with  a  century's  smoke  and  abundantly  festooned  with 
sooty  cobwebs ;  but  a  large,  cheerful  fire  blazed  on  the  hearth,  while 
before  it  stood  a  tall,  gaunt  woman  engaged  in  cooking  the  sup- 
per and  serving  mate.  This  was  Ramona,  an  old  servant  on  the 
estancia. 

There  also  sat  my  friend  of  the  tangled  tresses,  which  he  had  evi- 
dently succeeded  in  combing  well  out,  for  they  now  hung  down 
quite  smooth  on  his  back  and  as  long  as  a  woman's  hair.  Another 
person  was  also  seated  near  the  fire,  whose  age  might  have  been 
anything  from  twenty-five  to  forty-five,  for  he  had,  I  think,  a  mix- 
ture of  Indian  blood  in  his  veins,  and  one  of  those  smooth,  dry, 
dark  faces  that  change  but  little  with  age.  He  was  an  undersized, 
wiry-looking  man  with  a  small,  intensely  black  moustache,  but  no 
whiskers  or  beard.  He  seemed  to  be  a  person  of  some  consequence 
in  the  house,  and  when  my  conductress  introduced  him  to  me  as 
.  "Don  Hilario,"  he  rose  to  his  feet  and  received  me  with  a  profound 
bow.  In  spite  of  his  excessive  politeness  I  conceived  a  feeling  of  dis- 
trust towards  him  from  the  moment  I  saw  him;  and  this  was  be- 
cause his  small,  watchful  eyes  were  perpetually  glancing  at  my  face 
in  a  furtive  manner,  only  to  glance  swiftly  away  again  whenever  I 
looked  at  him;  for  he  seemed  quite  incapable  of  meeting  the  gaze 
of  another.  We  drank  mate  and  talked  a  little,  but  were  not  a  lively 
party.  Dona  Demetria,  though  she  sat  with  us,  scarcely  contributed 
a  word  to  the  conversation;  while  the  long-haired  man — Santos  by 

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Cfte  Purple  JLanD 

name,  and  the  only  peon  on  the  establishment — smoked  his  cigarette 
and  sipped  his  mate  in  absolute  silence. 

Bony  old  Ramona  at  length  dished  up  the  supper  and  carried 
it  out  of  the  kitchen;  we  followed  to  the  large  living-room,  where 
I  had  been  before,  and  gathered  round  a  small  table;  for  these 
people,  though  apparently  poverty-stricken,  ate  their  meals  after  the 
manner  of  civilised  beings.  At  the  head  of  the  table  sat  the  fierce  old 
white-haired  man,  staring  at  us  out  of  his  sunken  eyes  as  we  entered. 
Half  rising  from  his  seat,  he  mentioned  to  me  to  take  a  chair  near 
him,  then,  addressing  Don  Hilario,  who  sat  opposite,  he  said,  "This 
is  my  son  Calixto,  just  returned  from  the  wars,  where,  as  you 
know,  he  has  greatly  distinguished  himself." 

Don  Hilario  rose  and  bowed  gravely.  Demetria  took  the  other 
end  of  the  table,  while  Santos  and  Ramona  occupied  the  two  re- 
maining seats. 

I  was  greatly  relieved  to  find  that  the  old  man's  mood  had 
changed;  there  were  no  more  wild  outbursts  like  the  one  I  had 
witnessed  earlier  in  the  evening;  only  occasionally  he  would  fix  his 
strange,  burning  eyes  on  me  in  a  way  that  made  me  exceedingly 
uncomfortable.  We  began  the  meal  with  broth,  which  we  finished 
in  silence;  and  while  we  ate,  Don  Hilario's  swift  glances  incessantly 
flew  from  face  to  face ;  Demetria,  pale  and  evidently  ill  at  ease,  keep- 
ing her  eyes  cast  down  all  the  time. 

"Is  there  no  wine  this  evening,  Ramona?"  asked  the  old  man 
in  querulous  tones  when  the  old  woman  rose  to  remove  the  broth 
basins. 

"The  master  has  not  ordered  me  to  put  any  on  the  table,"  she 
replied  with  asperity,  and  strongly  emphasising  the  obnoxious  word. 

"What  does  this  mean,  Don  Hilario?"  said  the  old  man,  turning 
to  his  neighbour.  "My  son  has  just  returned  after  a  long  absence; 
are  we  to  have  no  wine  for  an  occasion  like  this  ?" 

Don  Hilario,  with  a  faint  smile  on  his  lips,  drew  a  key  from 
his  pocket  and  passed  it  silently  to  Ramona.  She  rose,  muttering, 
from  the  table  and  proceeded  to  unlock  a  cupboard,  from  which 
she  took  a  bottle  of  wine.  Then,  going  round  the  table,  she  poured 

196 


C&e  Purple  JLanU 

out  half  a  tumblerful  for  each  person,  excepting  herself  and  Santos, 
who,  to  judge  from  his  stolid  countenance,  did  not  expect  any. 

"No,  no,"  said  old  Peralta,  "give  Santos  wine,  and  pour  yourself 
out  a  glass  also,  Ramona.  You  have  both  been  good,  faithful  friends 
to  me,  and  have  nursed  Calixto  in  his  infancy.  It  is  right  that  you 
should  drink  his  health  and  rejoice  with  us  at  his  return." 

She  obeyed  with  alacrity,  and  old  Santos'  wooden  face  almost  re- 
laxed into  a  grin  when  he  received  his  share  of  the  purple  fluid 
(I  can  scarcely  call  it  juice)  which  maketh  glad  the  heart  of  man. 

Presently  old  Peralta  raised  his  glass  and  fixed  his  fierce,  insane 
eyes  on  me.  "Calixto,  my  son,  we  will  drink  your  health,"  he  said, 
"and  may  the  curse  of  the  Almighty  fall  on  our  enemies;  may  their 
bodies  lie  where  they  fall,  till  the  hawks  have  consumed  their  flesh, 
and  their  bones  have  been  trodden  into  dust  by  the  cattle;  and  may 
their  souls  be  tormented  with  everlasting  fire." 

Silently  they  all  raised  their  glasses  to  their  lips,  but  when  they 
set  them  down  again,  the  points  of  Don  Hilario's  black  moustache 
were  raised  as  if  by  a  smile,  while  Santos  smacked  his  lips  in  token 
of  enjoyment. 

After  this  ghastly  toast  nothing  more  was  spoken  by  anyone  at 
the  table.  In  oppressive  silence  we  consumed  the  roast  and  boiled 
meat  set  before  us;  for  I  dared  not  hazard  even  the  most  common- 
place remark  for  fear  of  rousing  my  volcanic  host  into  a  mad  erup- 
tion. When  we  had  finished  eating,  Demetria  rose  and  brought  her 
father  a  cigarette.  It  was  the  signal  that  supper  was  over;  and  im- 
mediately afterwards  she  left  the  room,  followed  by  the  two  servants. 
Don  Hilario  politely  offered  me  a  cigarette  and  lit  one  for  himself. 
For  some  minutes  we  smoked  in  silence,  until  the  old  man  gradually 
dropped  to  sleep  in  his  chair,  after  which  we  rose  and  went  back 
to  the  kitchen.  Even  that  sombre  retreat  now  seemed  cheerful  after 
the  silence  and  gloom  of  the  dining-room.  Presently  Don  Hilario 
got  up,  and,  with  many  apologies  for  leaving  me,  explaining  that 
he  had  been  invited  to  assist  at  a  dance  at  a  neighbouring  estancia, 
took  himself  off.  Soon  afterwards,  though  it  was  only  about  nine 
o'clock,  I  was  shown  to  a  room  where  a  bed  had  been  prepared 
for  me.  It  was  a  large,  musty-smelling  apartment,  almost  empty, 

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Cfte  purple  ILanD 

there  being  only  my  bed  and  a  few  tall,  upright  chairs  bound  with 
leather  and  black  with  age.  The  floor  was  tiled,  and  the  ceiling  was 
covered  with  a  dusty  canopy  of  cobwebs,  on  which  flourished  a 
numerous  colony  of  long-legged  house-spiders.  I  had  no  disposition 
to  sleep  at  that  early  hour,  and  even  envied  Don  Hilario,  away  en- 
joying himself  with  the  Rocha  beauties.  My  door,  looking  out  to 
the  front,  was  standing  wide  open;  the  full  moon  had  just  risen 
and  was  filling  the  night  with  its  mystic  splendour.  Putting  out  my 
candle,  for  the  house  was  now  all  dark  and  silent,  I  softly  went  out 
for  a  stroll.  Under  a  clump  of  trees  not  far  off  I  found  an  old  rustic 
bench,  and  sat  down  on  it;  for  the  place  was  all  such  a  tangled" 
wilderness  of  great  weeds  that  walking  was  scarcely  practicable  and 
very  unpleasant. 

The  old,  half-ruined  house  in  the  midst  of  the  dusky  desolation 
began  to  assume  in  the  moonlight  a  singularly  weird  and  ghost-like 
appearance.  Near  me  on  one  side  was  an  irregular  row  of  poplar- 
trees,  and  the  long,  dark  lines  cast  from  them  by  the  moon  fell 
across  a  wide,  open  space  where  the  rank-growing  thorn-apples 
predominated.  In  the  spaces  between  the  broad  bands  made  by  the 
poplar-tree  shadows,  the  foliage  appeared  of  a  dim,  hoary  blue, 
starred  over  with  the  white  blossoms  of  this  night-flowering  weed. 
About  these  flowers  several  big,  grey  moths  were  hovering,  sud- 
denly appearing  out  of  the  black  shadows  and  when  looked  for, 
noiselessly  vanishing  again  in  their  mysterious  ghost-like  manner. 
Not  a  sound  disturbed  the  silence  except  the  faint,  melancholy  trill 
of  one  small  night-singing  cicada  from  somewhere  near — a  faint, 
aerial  voice  that  seemed  to  be  wandering  lost  in  infinite  space,  rising 
and  floating  away  in  its  loneliness,  while  earth  listened,  hushed 
into  preternatural  stillness.  Presently  a  large  owl  came  noiselessly 
flying  by,  and,  perching  on  the  topmost  boughs  of  a  neighbouring 
tree,  began  hooting  a  succession  of  monotonous  notes,  sounding  like 
the  baying  of  a  bloodhound  at  a  vast  distance.  Another  owl  by  and 
by  responded  from  some  far-ofT  quarter,  and  the  dreary  duet  was 
kept  up  for  half  an  hour.  Whenever  one  bird  ceased  his  solemn 
boo-boo-boo-boo-boo,  I  found  myself  with  stilled  breath  straining 

108 


Cfte  purple  JLanD 

my  sense  to  catch  the  answering  notes,  fearing  to  stir  lest  I  should 
lose  them.  A  phosphorescent  gleam  swept  by  close  to  my  face, 
making  me  start  at  its  sudden  appearance,  then  passed  away,  trail- 
ing a  line  of  faint  light  over  the  dusky  weeds.  The  passing  firefly 
served  to  remind  me  that  I  was  not  smoking,  and  the  thought  then 
occurred  to  me  that  a  cigar  might  possibly  have  the  effect  of  reliev- 
ing me  from  the  strange,  indefinable  feeling  of  depression  that  had 
come  over  me.  I  put  my  hand  into  my  pocket  and  drew  out  a  cigar, 
and  bit  the  end  ofT;  but  when  about  to  strike  a  vesta  on  my  match- 
box, I  shuddered  and  dropped  my  hand. 

The  very  thought  of  striking  a  loud,  exploding  match  was 
unendurable  to  me,  so  strangely  nervous  did  I  feel.  Or  possibly  it 
was  a  superstitious  mood  I  had  fallen  into.  It  seemed  to  me  at  that 
moment  that  I  had  somehow  drifted  into  a  region  of  mystery, 
peopled  only  by  unearthly,  fantastic  beings.  The  people  I  had  supped 
with  did  not  seem  like  creatures  of  flesh  and  blood.  The  small,  dark 
countenance  of  Don  Hilario,  with  its  shifty  glances  and  Mephis- 
tophelian  smile;  Demetria's  pale,  sorrowful  face;  and  the  sunken, 
insane  eyes  of  her  old,  white-haired  father — were  all  about  me  in 
the  moonlight  and  amongst  the  tangled  greenery.  I  dared  not  move; 
I  scarcely  breathed;  the  very  weeds  with  their  pale,  dusky  leaves 
were  like  things  that  had  a  ghostly  life.  And  while  I  was  in  this 
morbid  condition  of  mind,  with  that  irrational  fear  momentarily 
increasing  on  me,  I  saw  at  a  distance  of  about  thirty  yards  a  dark 
object,  which  seemed  to  move,  fluttering  in  an  uncertain  way 
towards  me.  I  gazed  intently  on  it,  but  it  was  motionless  now,  and 
appeared  like  a  black,  formless  shadow  within  the  shade  of  the 
trees.  Presently  it  came  again  towards  me,  and,  passing  into  the 
clear  moonlight,  revealed  a  human  figure.  It  flitted  across  the  bright 
space  and  was  lost  in  the  shade  of  other  trees ;  but  it  still  approached, 
a  waving,  fluttering  figure,  advancing  and  receding,  but  always 
coming  nearer.  My  blood  turned  cold  in  my  veins ;  I  could  feel  my 
hair  standing  up  on  my  head,  until,  unable  to  endure  the  terrible 
suspense  longer,  I  jumped  up  from  my  seat.  A  loud  exclamation  of 
terror  came  from  the  figure,  and  then  I  saw  that  it  was  Demetria. 

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Cfte  purple  JLanD 

I  stammered  out  an  apology  for  frightening  her  by  jumping  up, 
and,  finding  that  I  had  recognised  her,  she  advanced  to  me. 

"Ah,  you  are  not  asleep,  senor,"  said  she  quietly.  "I  saw  you  from 
my  window  come  out  here  more  than  an  hour  ago.  Finding  you  did 
not  return,  I  began  to  grow  anxious,  and  thought  that,  tired  with 
your  journey,  you  had  fallen  asleep  out  here.  I  came  to  wake  you, 
and  to  warn  you  that  it  is  very  dangerous  to  lie  sleeping  with  your 
face  exposed  to  the  full  moon." 

I  explained  that  I  had  felt  restless  and  disinclined  to  sleep,  re- 
gretted that  I  had  caused  her  anxiety,  and  thanked  her  for  her 
thoughtful  kindness. 

Instead  of  leaving  me  then,  she  sat  quietly  down  on  the  bench. 
"Senor,"  she  said,  "if  it  is  your  intention  to  continue  your  journey 
to-morrow,  let  me  advise  you  not  to  do  so.  You  can  safely  remain 
here  for  a  few  days,  for  in  this  sad  house  we  have  no  visitors." 

I  told  her  that,  acting  on  Santa  Coloma's  advice,  given  to  me 
before  the  fight,  I  was  going  on  to  the  Lomas  de  Rocha  to  see  a 
person  named  Florentine  Blanco  in  that  place,  who  would  probably 
be  able  to  procure  me  a  passport  from  Montevideo. 

"How  fortunate  it  is  that  you  have  told  me  this!"  she  replied. 
"Every  stranger  now  entering  the  Lomas  is  rigorously  examined, 
and  you  could  not  possibly  escape  arrest  if  you  went  there.  Remain 
with  us,  senor;  it  is  a  poor  house,  but  we  are  well  disposed  towards 
you.  To-morrow  Santos  shall  go  with  a  letter  from  you  to  Don 
Florentine,  who  is  always  ready  to  serve  us,  and  he  will  do  what  you 
wish  without  seeking  you." 

I  thanked  her  warmly  and  accepted  the  offer  of  a  refuge  in  her 
house.  Somewhat  to  my  surprise,  she  still  remained  seated  on  the 
bench.  Presently  she  said: 

"It  is  natural,  senor,  that  you  should  not  be  glad  to  remain  in  a 
house  so  tristc.  But  there  will  be  no  repetition  of  all  you  were 
obliged  to  endure  on  first  entering  it.  Whenever  my  father  sees  a 
young  man,  a  stranger  to  him,  he  receives  him  as  he  received  you 
to-day,  mistaking  him  for  his  son.  After  the  first  day,  however,  he 
loses  all  interest  in  the  new  face,  becoming  indifferent,  and  for- 
getting all  he  has  said  or  imagined." 

200 


Cfte  putple  Lano 

This  information  relieved  me,  and  I  remarked  that  I  supposed 
the  loss  of  his  son  had  been  the  cause  of  his  malady. 

"You  are  right;  let  me  tell  you  how  it  happened,"  she  replied. 
"For  this  estancia  must  seem  to  you  a  place  unlike  all  others  in  the 
world,  and  it  is  only  natural  that  a  stranger  should  wish  to  know 
the  reason  of  its  sad  condition.  I  know  that  I  can  speak  without  fear 
of  these  things  to  one  who  is  a  friend  to  Santa  Coloma." 

"And  to  you,  I  hope,  senorita,"  I  said. 

"Thank  you,  senor.  All  my  life  has  been  spent  here.  When  I 
was  a  child  my  brother  went  into  the  army,  then  my  mother  died, 
and  I  was  left  here  alone,  for  the  siege  of  Montevideo  had  begun 
and  I  could  not  go  there.  At  length  my  father  received  a  terrible 
wound  in  action  and  was  brought  here  to  die,  as  we  thought.  For 
months  he  lay  on  his  bed,  his  life  trembling  in  the  balance.  Our 
enemies  triumphed  at  last;  the  siege  was  over,  the  Blanco  leaders 
dead  or  driven  into  exile.  My  father  had  been  one  of  the  bravest 
officers  in  the  Blanco  forces,  and  could  not  hope  to  escape  the  general 
persecution.  They  only  waited  for  his  recovery  to  arrest  him  and 
convey  him  to  the  capital,  where,  doubtless,  he  would  have  been 
shot.  While  he  lay  in  this  precarious  condition  every  wrong  and 
indignity  was  heaped  upon  us.  Our  horses  were  seized  by  the  com- 
mander of  the  department,  our  cattle  slaughtered  or  driven  off  and 
sold,  while  our  house  was  searched  for  arms  and  visited  every  week 
by  an  officer  who  came  to  report  on  my  father's  health.  One  reason 
for  this  animosity  was  that  Calixto,  my  brother,  had  escaped  and 
maintained  a  guerilla  war  against  the  government  on  the  Brazilian 
frontier.  At  length  my  father  recovered  so  far  from  his  wounds  as 
to  be  able  to  creep  out  for  an  hour  every  day  leaning  on  someone 
for  support;  then  two  armed  men  were  sent  to  keep  guard  here 
to  prevent  his  escape.  We  were  thus  living  in  continual  dread  when 
one  day  an  officer  came  and  produced  a  written  order  from  the 
Comandante.  He  did  not  read  it  to  me,  but  said  it  was  an  order  for 
every  person  in  the  Rocha  department  to  display  a  red  flag  on  his 
house  in  token  of  rejoicing  at  a  victory  won  by  the  government 
troops.  I  told  him  that  we  did  not  wish  to  disobey  the  Comandante's 
orders,  but  had  no  red  flag  in  the  house  to  hang  up.  He  answered 

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Cfte  purple  JLanD 

that  he  had  brought  one  for  that  purpose  with  him.  He  unrolled  it 
and  fastened  it  to  a  pole ;  then,  climbing  to  the  roof  of  the  house,  he 
raised  and  made  it  fast  there.  Not  satisfied  with  these  insults,  he 
ordered  me  to  wake  my  father,  who  was  sleeping,  so  that  he  also 
might  see  the  flag  over  his  house.  My  father  came  out  leaning  on 
my  shoulder,  and  when  he  had  cast  up  his  eyes  and  seen  the  red  flag 
he  turned  and  cursed  the  officer.  'Go  back,'  he  cried,  'to  the  dog, 
your  master,  and  tell  him  that  Colonel  Peralta  is  still  a  Blanco  in 
spite  of  your  dishonourable  flag.  Tell  that  insolent  slave  of  Brazil 
that  when  I  was  disabled  I  passed  my  sword  on  to  my  son  Calixto, 
who  knows  how  to  use  it,  fighting  for  his  country's  independence.' 
The  officer,  who  had  mounted  his  horse  by  this  time,  laughed,  and, 
tossing  the  order  from  the  comandancia  at  our  feet,  bowed  de- 
risively and  galloped  away.  My  father  picked  up  the  paper  and  read 
these  words:  'Let  there  be  displayed  on  every  house  in  this  depart- 
ment a  red  flag,  in  token  of  joy  at  the  happy  tidings  of  a  victory 
won  by  the  government  troops,  in  which  that  recreant  son  of  the 
republic,  the  infamous  assassin  and  traitor,  Calixto  Peralta,  was 
slain!'  Alas,  senor,  loving  his  son  above  all  things,  hoping  so  much 
from  him,  and  enfeebled  by  long  suffering,  my  poor  father  could 
not  resist  this  last  blow.  From  that  cruel  moment  he  was  deprived 
of  reason;  and  to  that  calamity  we  owe  it  that  he  was  not  put  to 
death  and  that  our  enemies  ceased  to  persecute  us." 

Demetria  shed  some  tears  when  telling  me  this  tragical  story. 
Poor  woman,  she  had  said  little  or  nothing  about  herself,  yet  how 
great  and  enduring  must  have  been  her  grief.  I  was  deeply  moved, 
and,  taking  her  hand,  told  her  how  deeply  her  sad  story  had  pained 
me.  Then  she  rose  and  bade  me  good  night  with  a  sad  smile — sad, 
but  the  first  smile  that  had  visited  her  grief -clouded  countenance 
since  I  had  seen  her.  I  could  well  imagine  that  even  the  sympathy  of 
a  stranger  must  have  seemed  sweet  to  her  in  that  dreary  isolation. 

After  she  left  me  I  lit  my  cigar.  The  night  had  lost  its  ghostly 
character  and  my  fantastic  superstitions  had  vanished.  I  was  back 
once  more  in  the  world  of  men  and  women,  and  could  only  think  of 
the  inhumanity  of  man  to  man,  and  of  the  infinite  pain  silently 

202 


Cfte  Purple  JLanD 

endured  by  many  hearts  in  that  Purple  Land.  The  only  mystery 
still  unsolved  in  that  ruinous  estancia  was  Don  Hilario,  who  locked 
up  the  wine  and  was  called  master  with  bitter  irony  by  Ramona, 
and  who  had  thought  it  necessary  to  apologise  to  me  for  depriving 
me  of  his  precious  company  that  evening. 


203 


C6e  Purple  JLanD 


0r*^0rx42r*,0v^<^<<0V.0rK0r*^^&<4?^^^ 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

I  SPENT  several  days  with  the  Peraltas  at  their  desolate,  kindest 
cattle-farm,  which  was  known  in  the  country  round  simply 
as  Estancia  or  Campos  de  Peralta.  Such  wearisome  days  they 
proved  to  me,  and  so  anxious  was  I  getting  about  Paquita  away  in 
Montevideo,  that  I  was  more  than  once  on  the  point  of  giving  up 
waiting  for  the  passport,  which  Don  Florentino  had  promised  to 
get  for  me,  and  boldly  venture  forth  without  even  that  fig-leaf  into 
the  open.  Demetria's  prudent  counsels,  however,  prevailed,  so  that 
my  departure  was  put  off  from  day  to  day.  The  only  pleasure  I 
experienced  in  the  house  arose  from  the  belief  I  entertained  that  my 
visit  had  made  an  agreeable  break  in  the  sad,  monotonous  life  of 
my  gentle  hostess.  Her  tragical  story  had  stirred  my  heart  to  a  very 
deep  pity,  and  as  I  grew  every  day  to  know  her  better  I  began  to 
appreciate  and  esteem  her  for  her  own  pure,  gentle,  self-sacrificing 
character.  Notwithstanding  the  dreary  seclusion  in  which  she  had 
lived,  seeing  no  society,  and  with  only  those  old  servants,  so  primi- 
tive in  their  ways,  for  company,  there  was  not  the  slightest  trace  of 
rusticity  in  her  manner.  That,  however,  is  not  saying  much  for 
Demetria,  since  in  most  ladies — most  women  I  might  almost  say — 
of  Spanish  origin  there  is  a  natural  grace  and  dignity  of  manner 
one  only  expects  to  find  in  women  socially  well  placed  in  our  own 
country.  When  we  were  all  together  at  meals,  or  in  the  kitchen 
sipping  mate,  she  was  invariably  silent,  always  with  that  shadow  of 
some  concealed  anxiety  on  her  face;  but  when  alone  with  me,  or 
when  only  old  Santos  and  Ramona  were  present,  the  cloud  would 
be  gone,  her  eyes  would  lighten  up  and  the  rare  smile  come  more 
frequently  to  her  lips.  Then,  at  times,  she  would  become  almost 
animated  in  conversation,  listening  with  lively  interest  to  all  I  told 
her  about  the  great  world  of  which  she  was  so  ignorant,  and  laugh- 

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Cfte  Purple  JLanD 

ing,  too,  at  her  own  ignorance  of  things  known  to  every  town- 
bred  child.  When  these  pleasant  conversations  took  place  in  the 
kitchen  the  two  old  servants  would  sit  gazing  at  the  face  of  their 
mistress,  apparently  absorbed  in  admiration.  They  evidently  re- 
garded her  as  the  most  perfect  being  that  had  ever  been  created; 
and,  though  there  was  a  ludicrous  side  to  their  simple  idolatry,  I 
ceased  to  wonder  at  it  when  I  began  to  know  her  better.  They  re- 
minded me  of  two  faithful  dogs  always  watching  a  beloved  master's 
face,  and  showing  in  their  eyes,  glad  or  pathetic,  how  they  sym- 
pathise with  all  his  moods.  As  for  old  Colonel  Peralta,  he  did  noth- 
ing to  make  me  uneasy;  after  the  first  day  he  never  talked  to  me, 
scarcely  even  noticing  my  presence  except  to  salute  me  in  a  cere- 
monious manner  when  we  met  at  table.  He  would  spend  his  day 
between  his  easy-chair  in  the  house  and  the  rustic  bench  under  the 
trees,  where  he  would  sit  for  hours  at  a  time,  leaning  forward  on  his 
stick,  his  preternaturally  brilliant  eyes  watching  everything  seem- 
ingly with  a  keen,  intelligent  interest.  But  he  would  not  speak.  He 
was  waiting  for  his  son,  thinking  his  fierce  thoughts  to  himself. 
Like  a  bird  blown  far  out  over  a  tumultuous  sea  and  wandering 
lost,  his  spirit  was  ranging  over  that  wild  and  troubled  past — that 
half  a  century  of  fierce  passions  and  bloody  warfare  in  which  he 
had  acted  a  conspicuous  part.  And  perhaps  it  was  sometimes  even 
more. in  the  future  than  the  past — that  glorious  future  when  Calixto, 
lying  far  off  in  some  mountain  pass,  or  on  some  swampy  plain  with 
the  trailing  creepers  covering  his  bones,  should  come  back  victorious 
from  the  wars. 

My  conversations  with  Demetria  were  not  frequent,  and  before 
long  they  ceased  altogether;  for  Don  Hilario,  who  was  not  in  har- 
mony with  us,  was  always  there,  polite,  subdued,  watchful,  but  not 
a  man  that  one  could  take  into  his  heart.  The  more  I  saw  of  him 
the  less  I  liked  him;  and,  though  I  am  not  prejudiced  about  snakes, 
as  the  reader  already  knows,  believing  as  I  do  that  ancient  tradition 
has  made  us  very  unjust  towards  these  interesting  children  of  our 
universal  mother,  I  can  think  of  no  epithet  except  snaky  to  describe 
this  man.  Wherever  I  happened  to  be  about  the  place  he  had  a  way 
of  coming  upon  me,  stealing  through  the  weeds  on  his  belly  as  it 

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Cfte  Purple  LanD 

were,  then  suddenly  appearing  unawares  before  me;  while  some- 
thing in  his  manner  suggested  a  subtle,  cold-blooded,  venomous 
nature.  Those  swift  glances  of  his,  which  perpetually  came  and 
went  with  such  bewildering  rapidity,  reminded  me,  not  of  the  im- 
movable, stony  gaze  of  the  serpent's  lidless  eyes,  but  of  the  flickering 
little  forked  tongue,  that  flickers,  flickers,  vanishes  and  flickers 
again,  and  is  never  for  one  moment  at  rest.  Who  was  this  man,  and 
what  did  he  there?  Why  was  he,  though  manifestly  not  loved  by 
anyone,  absolute  master  of  the  cstancia?  He  never  asked  me  a  ques- 
tion about  myself,  for  it  was  not  in  his  nature  to  ask  questions,  but 
he  had  evidently  formed  some  disagreeable  suspicions  about  me 
that  made  him  look  on  me  as  a  possible  enemy.  After  I  had  been  a 
few  days  in  the  house  he  ceased  going  out,  and  wherever  I  went 
he  was  always  ready  to  accompany  me,  or  when  I  met  Demetria  and 
began  conversing  with  her,  there  he  would  be  to  take  part  in  our 
conversation. 

At  length  the  piece  of  paper  so  long  waited  for  came  from  the 
Lomas  de  Rocha,  and  with  that  sacred  document,  testifying  that  I 
was  a  subject  of  Her  Britannic  Majesty,  Queen  Victoria,  all  fears 
and  hesitation  were  dismissed  from  my  mind  and  I  prepared  to 
depart  for  Montevideo. 

The  instant  Don  Hilario  heard  that  I  was  about  to  leave  the 
estancia  his  manner  toward  me  changed;  he  became,  in  a  moment, 
excessively  friendly,  pressing  me  to  prolong  my  visit,  also  to  accept 
a  horse  from  him  as  a  gift,  and  saying  many  kind  things  about  the 
agreeable  moments  he  had  spent  in  my  company.  He  completely 
reversed  the  old  saying  about  welcome  the  coming,  speed  the  part- 
ing, guest;  but  I  knew  very  well  that  he  was  anxious  enough  to  see 
the  last  of  me. 

After  supper  on  the  eve  of  my  departure  he  saddled  his  horse 
and  rode  off  to  attend  a  dance  or  gathering  of  some  kind  at  a 
neighbouring  estancia,  for  now  that  he  had  recovered  from  his  sus- 
picions he  was  very  eager  to  resume  the  social  pleasures  my  presence 
had  interfered  with. 

I  went  out  to  smoke  a  cigar  amongst  the  trees,  it  being  a  very 
lovely  autumnal  evening,  with  the  light  of  an  unclouded  new  moon 

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Cfte  purple  LanO 

to  temper  the  darkness.  I  was  walking  up  and  down  in  a  narrow 
path  amongst  the  weeds,  thinking  of  my  approaching  meeting  with 
Paquita,  when  old  Santos  came  out  to  me  and  mysteriously  in- 
formed me  that  Dona  Demetria  wished  to  see  me.  He  led  me 
through  the  large  room  where  we  always  had  our  meals,  then 
through  a  narrow,  dimly  lighted  passage  into  another  room  I  had 
not  entered  before.  Though  the  rest  of  the  house  was  now  in  dark- 
ness, the  old  colonel  having  already  retired  to  bed,  it  was  very  light 
here,  there  being  about  half  a  dozen  candles  placed  about  the  room. 
In  the  centre  of  the  floor,  with  her  old  face  beaming  with  delighted 
admiration,  stood  Ramona,  gazing  on  another  person  seated  on  the 
sofa.  And  on  this  individual  I  also  gazed  silently  for  some  time; 
for,  though  I  recognised  Demetria  in  her,  she  was  so  changed  that 
astonishment  prevented  me  from  speaking.  The  rusty  grub  had 
come  forth  as  a  splendid  green  and  gold  butterfly.  She  had  on  a 
grass-green  silk  dress,  made  in  a  fashion  I  had  never  seen  before; 
extremely  high  in  the  waist,  puffed  out  on  the  shoulders,  and  with 
enormous  bell-shaped  sleeves  reaching  to  the  elbows,  the  whole 
garment  being  plentifully  trimmed  with  very  fine  cream-coloured 
lace.  Her  long,  thick  hair,  which  had  hitherto  always  been  worn  in 
heavy  plaits  on  her  back,  was  now  piled  up  in  great  coils  on  her 
head  and  surmounted  by  a  tortoiseshell  comb  a  foot  high  at  least, 
and  about  fifteen  inches  broad  at  the  top,  looking  like  an  immense 
crest  on  her  head.  In  her  ears  were  curious  gold  filigree  pendants 
reaching  to  her  bare  shoulders;  she  also  wore  a  necklet  of  half- 
doubloons  linked  together  in  a  chain,  and  heavy  gold  bracelets  on 
her  arms.  It  was  extremely  quaint.  Possibly  this  finery  had  belonged 
to  her  grandmother  a  hundred  years  ago;  and  I  daresay  that  bright 
green  was  not  the  proper  tint  for  Demetria's  pallid  complexion; 
still,  I  must  confess,  at  the  risk  of  being  set  down  as  a  barbarian  in 
matters  of  taste,  that  it  gave  me  a  shock  of  pleasure  to  see  her.  She 
saw  that  I  was  very  much  surprised,  and  a  blush  of  confusion  over- 
spread her  face;  then,  recovering  her  usual  quiet,  self-possessed 
manner,  she  invited  me  to  sit  on  the  sofa  by  her.  I  took  her  hand  and 
complimented  her  on  her  appearance.  She  laughed  a  little  shy  laugh, 
then  said  that,  as  I  was  going  to  leave  her  next  day,  she  did  not 

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Cfte  purple  LanD 


wish  me  to  remember  her  only  as  a  woman  in  rusty  black.  I  replied 
that  I  would  always  remember  her  not  for  the  colour  and  fashion  of 
her  garments,  but  for  her  great,  unmerited  misfortunes,  her  virtuous 
heart,  and  for  the  kindness  she  had  shown  to  me.  My  words  evi- 
dently pleased  her,  and  while  we  sat  together  conversing  pleasantly, 
before  us  were  Ramona  and  Santos,  one  standing,  the  other  seated, 
both  feasting  their  eyes  on  their  mistress  in  her  brilliant  attire.  Their 
delight  was  quite  open  and  childlike,  and  gave  an  additional  zest 
to  the  pleasure  I  felt.  Demetria  seemed  pleased  to  think  she  looked 
well,  and  was  more  light-hearted  than  I  had  seen  her  before.  That 
antique  finery,  which  would  have  been  laughable  on  another 
woman,  somehow  or  other  seemed  appropriate  to  her;  possibly  be- 
cause the  strange  simplicity  and  ignorance  of  the  world  displayed 
in  her  conversation,  and  that  gentle  dignity  of  manner  natural  to 
her,  would  have  prevented  her  from  appearing  ridiculous  in  any 
costume. 

At  length,  after  we  had  partaken  of  mate  served  by  Ramona, 
the  old  servants  retired  from  the  room,  not  without  many  longing, 
lingering  glances  at  their  metamorphosed  mistress.  Then  somehow 
or  other  our  conversation  began  to  languish,  Demetria  becoming 
constrained  in  manner,  while  that  anxious  shadow  I  had  grown  so 
familiar  with  came  again  like  a  cloud  over  her  face.  Thinking  that 
it  was  time  to  leave  her,  I  rose  to  go,  and  thanked  her  for  the  pleas- 
ant evening  I  had  spent,  and  expressed  a  wish  that  her  future  would 
be  brighter  than  her  past  had  been. 

'Thank  you,  Richard,"  she  returned,  her  eyes  cast  down,  and 
allowing  her  hand  to  rest  in  mine.  "But  must  you  leave  me  so  soon  ? 
—  there  is  so  much  I  wish  to  say  to  you." 

"I  will  gladly  remain  and  hear  it,"  I  said,  sitting  down  again  by 
her  side. 

"My  past  has  been  very  sad,  as  you  say,  Richard,  but  you  do  not 
know  all,"  and  here  she  put  her  handkerchief  to  her  eyes.  There 
were,  I  noticed,  several  beautiful  rings  on  her  fingers,  and  the  hand- 
kerchief she  held  to  her  eyes  was  a  dainty  little  embroidered  thing 
with  a  lace  border;  for  everything  in  her  make-up  was  complete 

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Cfte  Purple  JLanD 

and  in  keeping  that  evening.  Even  the  quaint  little  shoes  she  wore 
were  embroidered  with  silver  thread  and  had  large  rosettes  on  them. 
After  removing  the  handkerchief  from  her  face,  she  continued 
silent  and  with  eyes  cast  down,  looking  very  pale  and  troubled. 

"Demetria,"  I  said,  "tell  me  how  I  can  serve  you  ?  I  cannot  guess 
the  nature  of  the  trouble  you  speak  of,  but  if  it  is  one  I  can  help  you 
out  of,  speak  to  me  without  reserve." 

"Perhaps  you  can  help  me,  Richard.  It  was  of  this  matter  I 
wished  to  speak  this  evening.  But  now — how  can  I  speak  of  it?" 

"Not  to  one  who  is  your  friend,  Demetria?  I  wish  you  could 
think  that  the  spirit  of  your  lost  brother  Calixto  was  here  in  me, 
for  I  am  as  ready  to  help  you  as  he  would  have  been;  and  I  know, 
Demetria,  that  you  were  very  dear  to  him." 

Her  face  flushed,  and  for  a  moment  her  eyes  met  mine;  then, 
casting  them  down  again,  she  replied  sadly,  "It  is  impossible!  I  can 
say  no  more  to  you  now.  My  heart  oppresses  me  so  that  my  lips 
refuse  to  speak.  To-morrow,  perhaps." 

"To-morrow  morning  I  leave  you,  and  there  will  be  no  oppor- 
tunity of  speaking,"  I  said.  "Don  Hilario  will  be  here  watching  you, 
and,  though  he  is  so  much  in  the  house,  I  cannot  believe  that  you 
trust  him." 

She  started  at  the  name  of  Don  Hilario,  and  cried  a  little  in 
silence;  then  suddenly  she  rose  and  gave  me  her  hand  to  bid  good 
night.  "You  shall  know  everything  to-morrow,  Richard,"  she  said. 
"Then  you  will  know  how  much  I  trust  you  and  how  little  I  trust 
him.  I  cannot  speak  myself,  but  I  can  trust  Santos,  who  knows 
everything,  and  he  shall  tell  you  all." 

There  was  a  sad,  wistful  look  in  her  eyes  when  we  parted  that 
haunted  me  for  hours  afterwards.  Coming  into  the  kitchen,  I  dis- 
turbed Ramona  and  Santos  deep  in  a  whispered  consultation.  They 
started  up,  looking  somewhat  confused ;  then,  when  I  had  lit  a  cigar 
and  turned  to  go  out,  they  got  up  and  went  back  to  their  mistress. 

While  I  smoked  I  pondered  over  the  strange  evening  I  had 
passed,  wondering  very  much  what  Demetria's  secret  trouble  could 
be.  "The  mystery  of  the  green  butterfly,"  I  called  it;  but  it  was 

209 


Cfte  purple  JLanD 

really  all  too  sad  even  for  a  mental  joke,  though  a  little  timely 
laughter  is  often  the  best  weapon  to  meet  trouble  with,  sometimes 
having  an  effect  like  that  of  a  gay  sunshade  suddenly  opened  in  the 
face  of  an  angry  bull.  Unable  to  solve  the  riddle,  I  retired  to  my 
room  to  sleep  my  last  sleep  under  Peralta's  dreary  roof. 


210 


Cfte  purple  Lann 


?*^^V^VJ0r*j0V<&V^<;&**^0V<0^0^0V^<^^ 


CHAPTER  XXV 

BOUT  eight  o'clock  next  morning  I  bade  the  Peraltas  good- 
bye, and  set  out  on  my  long-delayed  journey,  still  mounted 
on  that  dishonestly  acquired  steed  that  had  served  me  so 
well,  for  I  had  declined  the  good  Hilario's  offer  of  a  horse.  Though 
all  my  toils,  wanderings,  and  many  services  to  the  cause  of  liberty 
(or  whatever  people  fight  for  in  the  Banda)  had  not  earned  me  one 
copper  coin,  it  was  some  comfort  to  think  that  Candelaria's  never- 
to-be-forgotten  generosity  had  saved  me  from  being  penniless;  I 
was,  in  fact,  returning  to  Paquita  well  dressed,  on  a  splendid  horse, 
and  with  dollars  enough  in  my  pocket  to  take  us  comfortably  out 
of  the  country.  Santos  rode  out  with  me,  ostensibly  to  put  me  on 
the  right  road  to  Montevideo;  only  I  knew,  of  course,  that  he  was 
the  bearer  of  an  important  communication  from  Demetria.  When 
we  had  ridden  about  half  a  league  without  any  approach  to  the 
subject  on  his  part,  in  spite  of  sundry  hints  I  threw  out,  I  asked 
him  plainly  if  he  had  a  message  for  me. 

After  pondering  over  the  question  for  as  long  a  time  as  would 
be  necessary  to  work  out  a  rather  difficult  mathematical  problem, 
he  answered  that  he  had. 

"Then,"  said  I,  "let  me  hear  it." 

He  grinned.  "Do  you  think,"  he  said,  "that  it  is  a  thing  to  be 
spoken  in  half  a  dozen  words?  I  have  not  come  all  this  distance 
merely  to  say  that  the  moon  came  in  dry,  or  that  yesterday,  being 
Friday,  Dona  Demetria  tasted  no  meat.  It  is  a  long  story,  senor." 

"How  many  leagues  long?  Do  you  intend  it  to  last  all  the  way 
to  Montevideo  ?  The  longer  it  is  the  sooner  you  ought  to  begin  it." 

"There  are  things  easy  to  say,  and  there  are  other  things  not  so 
easy,"  returned  Santos.  "But  as  to  saying  anything  on  horseback, 
who  could  do  that?" 

211 


Cfte  Purple  ILanD 

"Why  not?" 

"The  question!"  said  he.  "Have  you  not  observed  that  when 
liquor  is  drawn  from  a  cask — wine,  or  bitter  orange-juice  to  make 
orangeade,  or  even  rum,  which  is  by  nature  white  and  clear — that  it 
runs  thick  when  the  cask  is  shaken?  It  is  the  same  with  us,  senor; 
our  brain  is  the  cask  out  of  which  we  draw  all  the  things  we  say." 

"And  the  spigot— 

"That  is  so,"  he  struck  in,  pleased  with  my  ready  intelligence; 
"the  mouth  is  the  spigot." 

"I  should  have  thought  the  nose  more  like  the  spigot,"  I  replied. 

"No,"  he  gravely  returned.  "You  can  make  a  loud  noise  with  the 
nose  when  you  snore  or  blow  it  in  a  handkerchief;  but  it  has  no 
door  of  communication  with  the  brain.  The  things  that  are  in  the 
brain  flow  out  by  the  mouth." 

"Very  well,"  said  I,  getting  impatient,  "call  the  mouth  spigot, 
bung-hole,  or  what  you  like,  and  the  nose  merely  an  ornament  on 
the  cask.  The  thing  is  this:  Dona  Demetria  has  entrusted  you  with 
some  liquor  to  pass  on  to  me;  now  pass  it,  thick  or  clear." 

"Not  thick,"  he  answered  stubbornly. 

"Very  well;  clear  then,"  I  shouted. 

"To  give  it  to  you  clear  I  must  give  it  off  and  not  on  my  horse, 
sitting  still  and  not  moving." 

Anxious  to  have  it  over  without  more  beating  about  the  bush,  I 
reined  up  my  horse,  jumped  off,  and  sat  down  on  the  grass  without 
another  word.  He  followed  my  example,  and,  after  seating  himself 
in  a  comfortable  position,  deliberately  drew  out  his  tobacco-pouch 
and  began  making  a  cigarette.  I  could  not  quarrel  with  him  for  this 
further  delay,  for  without  the  soothing,  stimulating  cigarette  an 
Oriental  finds  it  difficult  to  collect  his  thoughts.  Leaving  him  to 
carry  out  his  instructions  in  his  own  laborious  fashion,  I  vented  my 
irritation  on  the  grass,  plucking  it  up  by  handfuls. 

"Why  do  you  do  that?"  he  asked,  with  a  grin. 

"Pluck  grass  ?  What  a  question !  When  a  person  sits  down  on  the 
grass,  what  is  the  first  thing  he  does?" 

"Makes  a  cigarette,"  he  returned 

"In  my  country  he  begins  plucking  up  the  grass,"  I  said. 

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Cfte  purple  JLanD 

"In  the  Banda  Oriental  we  leave  the  grass  for  the  cattle  to  eat," 
said  he. 

I  at  once  gave  up  pulling  the  grass,  for  it  evidently  distracted  his 
mind,  and,  lighting  a  cigarette,  began  smoking  as  placidly  as  I 
could. 

At  length  he  began:  "There  is  not  in  all  the  Banda  Oriental  a 
worse  person  to  express  things  than  myself." 

"You  are  speaking  the  truth,"  I  said. 

"But  what  is  to  be  done?"  he  continued,  staring  straight  before 
him  and  giving  as  little  heed  to  my  interruption  as  a  hunter  riding 
at  a  stiff  fence  would  pay  to  a  remark  about  the  weather.  "When  a 
man  cannot  get  a  knife,  he  breaks  in  two  an  old  pair  of  sheep- 
shears,  and  with  one  of  the  blades  makes  himself  an  implement 
which  has  to  serve  him  for  a  knive.  This  is  how  it  is  with  Dona 
Demetria;  she  has  no  one  but  her  poor  Santos  to  speak  for  her. 
If  she  had  asked  me  to  expose  my  life  in  her  service,  that  I  could 
easily  have  done;  but  to  speak  for  her  to  a  man  who  can  read  the 
almanac  and  knows  the  names  of  all  the  stars  in  the  sky,  that  kills 
me,  senor.  And  who  knows  this  better  than  my  mistress,  who  has 
been  intimate  with  me  from  her  infancy,  when  I  often  carried  her 
in  my  arms  ?  I  can  only  say  this,  senor ;  when  I  speak,  remember  my 
poverty  and  that  my  mistress  has  no  instrument  except  my  poor 
tongue  to  convey  her  wishes.  Words  has  she  told  me  to  say  to  you, 
but  my  devil  of  a  memory  has  lost  them  all.  What  am  I  to  do  in  this 
case  ?  If  I  wished  to  buy  my  neighbour's  horse,  and  went  to  him  and 
said,  'Sell  me  your  horse,  neighbour,  for  I  have  fallen  in  love  with  it 
and  my  heart  is  sick  with  desire,  so  that  I  must  have  it  at  any  price,' 
would  that  not  be  madness,  senor?  Yet  I  must  be  like  that  impru- 
dent person.  I  come  to  you  for  something,  and  all  her  expressions, 
which  were  like  rare  flowers  culled  from  a  garden,  have  been  lost 
by  the  way.  Therefore  I  can  only  say  this  thing  which  my  mistress 
desires,  putting  it  in  my  own  brute  words,  which  are  like  wild 
flowers  I  have  myself  gathered  on  the  plain,  that  have  neither  fra- 
grance nor  beauty  to  recommend  them." 

This  quaint  exordium  did  not  advance  matters  much,  but  it  had 
the  effect  of  rousing  my  attention  and  convincing  me  that  the  mes- 

213 


Cfte  Purple  ILanD 

sage  entrusted  to  Santos  was  one  of  very  grave  import.  He  had 
finished  his  first  cigarette  and  now  began  slowly  making  himself  a 
second  one;  but  I  waited  patiently  for  him  to  speak,  my  irritation 
had  quite  vanished,  those  "wild  flowers"  of  his  were  not  without 
beauty,  and  his  love  and  devotion  for  his  unhappy  mistress  made 
them  smell  very  sweet. 

Presently  he  resumed:  "Senor,  you  have  told  my  mistress  that 
you  are  a  poor  man;  that  you  look  upon  this  country  life  as  a  free 
and  happy  one;  that  above  all  things  you  would  like  to  possess  an 
estanda  where  you  could  b^eed  cattle  and  race-horses  and  hunt 
ostriches.  All  this  she  has  revolved  in  her  mind,  and  because  it  is  in 
her  power  to  offer  you  the  things  you  desire  does  she  now  ask  you 
to  aid  her  in  her  trouble.  And  now,  senor,  let  me  tell  you  this. 
The  Peralta  property  extends  all  the  way  to  the  Rocha  waters;  five 
leagues  of  land,  and  there  is  none  better  in  this  department.  It  was 
formerly  well  stocked.  There  were  thousands  of  cattle  and  mares; 
for  my  master's  party  then  ruled  in  the  country ;  the  Colorados  were 
shut  up  in  Montevideo,  and  that  cut-throat  Frutos  Rivera  never 
came  into  this  part.  Of  the  cattle  only  a  remnant  remains,  but  the 
land  is  a  fortune  for  any  man,  and,  when  my  old  master  dies,  Dona 
Demetria  inherits  all.  Even  now  it  is  hers,  since  her  father  has  lost 
his  calabash,  as  you  have  seen.  Now  let  me  tell  you  what  happened 
many  years  ago.  Don  Hilario  was  at  first  a  peon — a  poor  boy  the 
Colonel  befriended.  When  he  grew  up  he  was  made  capatas,  then 
mayordomo.  Don  Calixto  was  killed  and  the  Colonel  lost  his  rea- 
son, then  Don  Hilario  made  himself  all-powerful,  doing  what  he 
liked  with  his  master,  and  setting  Dona  Demetria's  authority  aside. 
Did  he  protect  the  interests  of  the  estanda?  On  the  contrary,  he  was 
one  with  our  enemies,  and  when  they  came  like  dogs  for  our  cattle 
and  horses  he  was  behind  them.  This  he  did  to  make  friends  of  the 
reigning  party,  when  the  Blancos  had  lost  everything.  Now  he 
wishes  to  marry  Dona  Demetria  to  make  himself  owner  of  the  land. 
Don  Calixto  is  dead,  and  who  is  there  to  bell  the  cat  ?  Even  now  he 
acts  like  the  only  owner;  he  buys  and  sells  and  the  money  is  his. 
My  mistress  is  scarcely  allowed  clothes  to  wear;  she  has  no  horse  to 
ride  on  and  is  a  prisoner  in  her  own  house.  He  watches  her  like  a 

214 


C!>e  Purple  LanD 

cat  watching  a  bird  shut  in  a  room ;  if  he  suspected  her  of  an  inten- 
tion to  make  her  escape  he  would  murder  her.  He  has  sworn  to  her 
that  unless  she  marries  him  he  will  kill  her.  Is  not  this  sad  ?  Senor, 
she  asks  you  to  deliver  her  from  this  man.  Her  words  I  have  for- 
gotten, but  imagine  that  you  see  her  before  you  a  suppliant  on  her 
knees,  and  that  you  know  what  the  thing  is  she  asks,  and  see  her 
lips  move,  though  you  do  not  hear  her  words." 

"Tell  me  how  I  can  deliver  her?"  I  said,  feeling  very  much 
moved  at  what  I  had  heard. 

"How!  By  carrying  her  of!  forcibly — do  you  understand?  Is  it 
not  in  your  power  to  return  in  a  few  days'  time  with  two  or  three 
friends  to  do  this  thing  ?  You  must  come  disguised  and  armed.  If  I 
am  in  the  way  I  will  do  what  I  can  to  protect  her,  but  you  will 
easily  knock  me  down  and  stun  me — do  you  understand?  Don 
Hilario  must  not  know  that  we  are  in  the  plot.  From  him  fear 
nothing,  for,  though  he  is  brave  enough  to  threaten  a  woman  with 
death,  before  armed  men  he  is  like  a  dog  that  hears  thunder.  You 
can  then  take  her  to  Montevideo  and  conceal  her  there.  The  rest 
will  be  easy.  Don  Hilario  will  fail  to  find  her;  Ramona  and  I  will 
take  care  of  the  Colonel,  and  when  his  daughter  is  out  of  his  sight 
perhaps  he  will  forget  her.  Then,  senor,  there  will  be  no  trouble 
about  the  property;  for  who  can  resist  a  legal  claim?" 

"I  do  not  understand  you,  Santos,"  said  I.  "If  Demetria  wishes 
me  to  do  what  you  say,  and  there  is  no  other  way  to  save  her  from 
Don  Hilario's  persecutions,  I  will  do  it.  I  will  do  anything  to  serve 
her,  and  I  have  no  fear  of  that  dog  Hilario.  But  when  I  have  placed 
her  in  concealment,  who  in  Montevideo,  where  she  is  without  a 
friend,  will  take  up  her  cause  and  see  that  she  is  not  defrauded  of 
her  rights  ?  I  can  give  her  liberty,  but  that  will  be  all." 

"The  property  will  be  the  same  as  yours  when  you  marry  her," 
said  he. 

I  had  never  suspected  that  this  was  coming,  and  was  amazed  to 
hear  it. 

"Will  you  tell  me,  Santos,"  said  I,  "that  Demetria  sent  you  to 
say  this  to  me?  Does  she  think  that  only  by  marrying  her  I  can 
deliver  her  from  this  robber  and  save  her  property  ?" 

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Cfte  purple  JLanD 

"There  is,  of  course,  no  other  way,"  said  he.  "If  it  could  be  done 
by  other  means,  would  she  not  have  spoken  last  night  and  explained 
everything  to  you?  Consider,  senor,  all  this  large  property  will  be 
yours.  If  you  do  not  like  this  department,  then  she  will  sell  every- 
thing for  you  to  buy  an  estancia  elsewhere,  or  to  do  whatever  you 
wish.  And  I  ask  you  this,  senor,  could  any  man  marry  a  better 
woman?" 

"No,"  said  I;  "but,  Santos,  I  cannot  marry  your  mistress." 

I  remembered  then,  sadly  enough,  that  I  had  told  her  next  to 
nothing  about  myself.  Seeing  me  so  young,  wandering  homeless 
about  the  country,  she  had  naturally  taken  me  for  a  single  man; 
and,  perhaps  thinking  that  I  had  conceived  an  affection  for  her,  had 
been  driven  in  her  despair  to  make  this  proposal.  Poor  Demetria, 
was  there  to  be  no  deliverance  for  her  after  all ! 

"Friend,"  said  Santos,  dropping  the  ceremonious  senor  in  his 
anxiety  to  serve  his  mistress,  "never  speak  without  first  considering 
all  things.  There  is  no  woman  like  her.  If  you  do  not  love  her  now 
you  will  love  her  when  you  know  her  better;  no  good  man  could 
help  feeling  affection  for  her.  You  saw  her  last  evening  in  a  green 
silk  dress,  also  wearing  a  tortoise-shell  comb  and  gold  ornaments — 
was  she  not  elegant,  senor?  Did  she  not  then  appear  to  your  eyes  a 
woman  suitable  for  a  wife?  You  have  been  everywhere,  and  have 
seen  many  women,  and  perhaps  in  some  distant  place  you  have 
met  one  more  beautiful  than  my  mistress.  But  consider  the  life  she 
has  led!  Grief  has  made  her  pale  and  thin,  staining  her  face  with 
purple  under  the  eyes.  Can  laughter  and  song  come  out  of  a  heart 
where  fear  is?  Another  life  would  change  all;  she  would  be  a 
flower  amongst  women." 

Poor  old  simple-minded  Santos,  he  had  done  himself  great  in- 
justice; his  love  for  his  mistress  had  inspired  him  with  an  eloquence 
that  went  to  my  heart.  And  poor  Demetria,  driven  by  her  weary, 
desolate  life  and  torturing  fears  to  make  in  vain  this  unwomanly 
proposal  to  a  stranger!  And,  after  all,  it  was  not  unwomanly;  for 
in  all  countries  where  they  are  not  abject  slaves  it  is  permissible  for 
women  in  some  circumstances  to  propose  marriage.  Even  in  Eng- 
land it  is  so,  where  society  is  like  a  huge  Clapham  Junction,  with 

216 


Cfte  purple  JLanO 

human  creatures  moving  like  trucks  and  carriages  on  cast-iron,  con- 
ventional rails,  which  they  can  only  leave  at  the  risk  of  a  destructive 
collision.  And  a  proposal  of  the  kind  was  never  more  justifiable 
than  in  this  case.  Shut  away  from  the  sight  of  men  in  her  dreary 
seclusion,  haunted  by  nameless  fears,  her  offer  was  to  bestow  her 
hand  along  with  a  large  property  on  a  penniless  adventurer.  Nor 
had  she  done  this  before  she  had  learnt  to  love  me,  and  to  think, 
perhaps,  that  the  feeling  was  returned.  She  had  waited,  too,  till  the 
very  last  moment,  only  making  her  offer  when  she  had  despaired 
of  its  coming  from  me.  This  explained  the  reception  of  the  previous 
evening;  the  ancient,  splendid  attire  which  she  had  worn  to  win 
favour  in  my  sight;  the  shy,  wistful  expression  of  her  eyes,  the 
hesitation  she  could  not  overcome.  When  I  had  recovered  from  the 
first  shock  of  surprise  I  could  only  feel  the  greatest  respect  and 
compassion  for  her,  bitterly  regretting  that  I  had  not  told  her  all 
my  past  history,  so  that  she  might  have  been  spared  the  shame  and 
grief  she  would  now  be  compelled  to  endure.  These  sad  thoughts 
passed  through  my  mind  while  Santos  expatiated  on  the  advantages 
of  the  proposed  alliance  until  I  stopped  him. 

"Say  no  more,"  I  said;  "for  I  swear  to  you,  Santos,  that  were  it 
possible  I  would  gladly  take  Demetria  for  a  wife,  so  greatly  do  I 
admire  and  esteem  her.  But  I  am  married.  Look  at  this;  it  is  my 
wife's  portrait";  and,  taking  from  my  bosom  the  miniature  which  I 
always  wore  round  my  neck,  I  handed  it  to  him. 

He  stared  at  me  in  silent  astonishment  for  a  few  moments,  then 
took  the  portrait  into  his  hand;  and  while  he  gazed  admiringly  at 
it  I  pondered  over  what  I  had  heard.  I  could  not  now  think  of  leav- 
ing this  poor  woman,  who  had  offered  herself  with  all  her  inherit- 
ance to  me,  without  some  attempt  to  rescue  her  from  her  sad 
position.  She  had  given  me  a  refuge  when  I  was  in  trouble  and 
danger,  and  the  appeal  she  had  just  made  to  me,  accompanied  by  so 
convincing  a  proof  of  her  trust  and  affection,  would  have  gone  to 
the  heart  of  the  most  cold-blooded  man  in  existence,  to  make  him, 
in  spite  of  his  nature,  her  devoted  champion. 

At  length  Santos  handed  back  the  miniature,  with  a  sigh.  "Such 

217 


Cfte  purple  JLanD 

a  face  as  that  my  eyes  have  never  seen,"  he  remarked.  "There  is 
nothing  more  to  be  said." 

"There  is  a  great  deal  more  to  be  said,"  I  returned.  "I  have 
thought  of  an  easy  plan  to  help  your  mistress.  When  you  have  re- 
ported this  conversation,  tell  her  to  remember  the  offer  of  assistance 
made  to  her  last  night.  I  said  I  would  be  a  brother  to  her,  and  I 
shall  keep  my  promise.  You  three  cannot  think  of  any  better 
scheme  to  save  Demetria  than  this  one  you  have  told  me,  but  it  is 
after  all  a  very  poor  scheme,  full  of  difficulty  and  danger  to  her. 
My  plan  is  a  simpler  and  safer  one.  Tell  her  to  come  out  to-night 
at  midnight,  after  the  moon  has  set,  to  meet  me  under  the  trees 
behind  the  house.  I  shall  be  there  waiting  with  a  horse  for  her,  and 
will  take  her  away  to  some  safe  place  of  concealment  where  Don 
Hilario  will  never  find  her.  When  she  is  once  out  of  his  power  it 
will  be  time  enough  to  think  of  some  way  to  turn  him  out  of  the 
estanria  and  to  arrange  matters.  See  that  she  does  not  fail  to  meet 
me,  and  let  her  take  a  few  clothes  and  some  money,  if  she  has  any; 
also  her  jewels,  for  it  would  not  be  safe  to  leave  them  in  the  house 
with  Don  Hilario." 

Santos  was  delighted  with  my  scheme,  which  was  so  much 
more  practical,  though  less  romantic,  than  the  one  hatched  by  those 
three  simple-minded  conspirators.  With  heart  full  of  hope,  he  was 
about  to  leave  me  when  he  suddenly  exclaimed,  "But,  senor,  how 
will  you  get  a  horse  and  side-saddle  for  Dona  Demetria?" 

"Leave  it  all  to  me,"  I  said;  then  we  separated,  he  to  return  to 
his  mistress,  who  was  no  doubt  anxiously  waiting  to  know  the  result 
of  our  conversation,  I  to  get  through  the  next  fifteen  hours  in  the 
best  way  I  could. 


218 


Cfje  purple  HanD 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

ATER  leaving  Santos  I  rode  on  to  a  belt  of  wood  about  two 
miles  east  of  the  road,  and,  passing  through  it,  surveyed  the 
country  lying  beyond.  The  only  habitation  near  it  was  a 
shepherd's  lonely  rancho,  standing  on  an  open  plain  of  yellow  grass, 
over  which  a  scattered  flock  of  sheep  and  a  few  horses  were  grazing. 
I  determined  to  remain  in  the  wood  till  near  noon,  then  proceed  to 
the  rancho  to  get  breakfast,  and  commence  my  search  for  a  horse 
and  side-saddle  in  the  neighbourhood.  After  unsaddling  my  horse 
and  tying  him  to  a  tree,  where  there  were  some  pickings  of  grass 
and  herbage  about  the  roots,  I  lit  a  cigar  and  made  myself  com- 
fortable on  my  rugs  in  the  shade.  Presently  I  had  some  visitors  in 
a  flock  of  urracas,  or  magpies,  as  they  are  called  in  the  vernacular, 
or  Guira  cuckoos;  a  graceful,  loquacious  bird  resembling  a  magpie, 
only  with  a  longer  tail  and  a  bold,  red  beak.  These  ill-mannered 
birds  skulked  about  in  the  branches  over  me  all  the  time  I  remained 
in  the  wood,  scolding  me  so  incessantly  in  their  intolerably  loud, 
angry,  rattling  notes,  varied  occasionally  with  shrill  whistlings  and 
groans,  that  I  could  scarcely  even  hear  myself  think.  They  soon 
succeeded  in  bringing  all  the  other  birds  within  hearing  distance  to 
the  spot  to  take  part  in  the  demonstration.  It  was  unreasonable  of 
the  cuckoos,  to  say  the  least  of  it,  for  it  was  now  long  past  their 
breeding  season,  so  that  parental  solicitude  could  not  be  pleaded  as 
an  excuse  for  their  churlish  behaviour.  The  others — tanagers,  finches, 
tyrant-birds;  red,  white,  blue,  grey,  yellow,  and  mixed — were,  I 
must  own,  less  troublesome,  for,  after  hopping  about  for  a  while, 
screaming,  chirping,  and  twittering,  they  very  sensibly  flew  away, 
no  doubt  thinking  their  friends  the  cuckoos  were  making  a  great 
deal  too  much  fuss.  My  sole  mammalian  visitor  was  an  armadillo, 
that  came  hurrying  towards  me,  looking  curiously  like  a  little  old 

219 


Cfte  Purple  Land 

bent-backed  gentleman  in  a  rusty  black  coat  trotting  briskly  about 
on  some  very  important  business.  It  came  to  within  three  yards  of 
my  feet,  then  stopped,  and  seemed  astonished  beyond  measure  at 
my  presence,  staring  at  me  with  its  little,  bleary,  blinking  eyes,  and 
looking  more  like  the  shabby  old  gentleman  than  ever.  Then  it 
trotted  away  through  the  trees,  but  presently  returned  for  a  second 
inspection;  and  after  that  it  kept  coming  and  going,  till  I  inadver- 
tently burst  out  laughing,  whereupon  it  scuttled  away  in  great 
alarm,  and  returned  no  more.  I  was  sorry  I  had  frightened  the 
amusing  little  beggar,  for  I  felt  in  that  exceedingly  light-heartec 
mood  when  one's  merriment  is  ready  to  brim  over  at  the  slightes 
provocation.  Yet  that  very  morning  poor  Demetria's  appeal  hac 
deeply  stirred  my  heart,  and  I  was  now  embarked  on  a  mos 
Quixotic  and  perhaps  perilous  adventure!  Possibly  the  very  fact  o 
that  adventure  being  before  me  had  produced  an  exhilarating  effec 
on  my  mind,  and  made  it  impossible  for  me  to  be  sad,  or  even  de 
cently  composed. 

After  spending  a  couple  of  hours  in  the  pleasant  shade,  the  blu 
smoke  ascending  from  the  rancho  before  me  gave  notice  of  th 
approaching  breakfast  hour;  so,  saddling  my  horse,  I  went  to  make 
my  morning  call,  the  cuckoos  hailing  my  departure  with  loud 
mocking  shouts  and  whistling  calls,  meant  to  inform  all  their 
feathered  friends  that  they  had  at  last  succeeded  in  making  their 
haunt  too  hot  for  me. 

At  the  rancho  I  was  received  by  a  somewhat  surly-looking  young 
man,  with  long,  intensely  black  hair  and  moustache,  and  who  wore 
in  place  of  a  hat  a  purple  cotton  handkerchief  tied  about  his  head. 
He  did  not  seem  to  be  over-pleased  at  my  visit,  and  invited  rne 
rather  ungraciously  to  alight  if  I  thought  proper.  I  followed  him 
into  the  kitchen,  where  his  little  brown-skinned  wife  was  preparing 
breakfast,  and  I  fancied,  after  seeing  her,  that  her  prettiness  was 
the  cause  of  his  inhospitable  manner  towards  a  stranger.  She  was 
singularly  pretty,  with  a  seductive,  soft  brown  skin,  ripe,  pouting 
lips  of  a  rich  purple-red,  and  when  she  laughed,  which  happened 
very  frequently,  her  teeth  glistened  like  pearls.  Her  crisp,  black  hair 
hung  down  unbound  and  disordered,  for  she  looked  like  a  very 

220 


Cbe  Purple  LanD 

careless  little  beauty;  but  when  she  saw  me  enter,  she  blushed  and 
tossed  her  tresses  away  from  her  shoulders,  then  carefully  felt  the 
pendants  dropping  from  her  ears  to  assure  herself  that  they  were 
safe,  or  possibly  to  attract  my  attention  to  them.  The  frequent 
glances  her  laughing,  dark  eyes  shot  at  me  soon  convinced  me  that 
she  was  one  of  those  charming  little  wives — charming,  that  is, 
when  they  are  the  wives  of  other  people — who  are  not  satisfied  with 
a  husband's  admiration. 

I  had  timed  my  arrival  well,  for  the  roast  lamb  over  the  coals 
was  just  assuming  a  deep  golden  brown  colour,  and  sending  out  a 
most  delicious  fragrance.  During  the  repast  which  followed  I 
amused  my  auditors,  and  myself,  by  telling  a  few  innocent  lies,  and 
began  by  saying  that  I  was  on  my  return  to  Rocha  from  Monte- 
video. 

The  shepherd  remarked  suspiciously  that  I  was  not  on  the  right 
road. 

I  answered  that  I  knew  it ;  then  proceeded  to  say  that  I  had  met 
with  a  misfortune  on  the  previous  evening,  which  in  the  end  had 
led  me  out  of  the  right  road.  I  had  only  been  married  a  few  days, 
I  continued,  and  at  this  declaration  my  host  looked  relieved,  while 
little  gipsy  suddenly  seemed  to  lose  all  interest  in  me. 

"My  wife,"  I  said,  "set  her  heart  on  having  a  side-saddle,  as  she 
is  very  fond  of  riding;  so,  having  business  which  took  me  to  town, 
I  there  purchased  one  for  her,  and  was  returning  with  it  on  a  led 
horse — my  wife's  horse,  unfortunately — when  I  stopped  last  evening 
to  get  some  refreshment  at  a  pulpcria  on  the  road.  While  eating 
some  bread  and  sausage  a  tipsy  person,  who  happened  to  be  there, 
imprudently  began  to  explode  some  fire-crackers,  which  so  terrified 
the  horses  tied  at  the  gate  that  several  of  them  broke  loose  and 
escaped.  My  wife's  horse  with  the  side-saddle  on  him  escaped  with 
them ;  then,  mounting  my  own  horse,  I  started  in  pursuit,  but  failed 
to  overtake  the  runaway.  Finally  it  joined  a  herd  of  mares,  and 
these,  becoming  terrified,  fled  from  me,  leading  me  a  chase  of  sev- 
eral leagues,  till  I  lost  sight  of  them  in  the  darkness." 

"If  your  wife  resembles  mine  in  disposition,  friend,"  said  he, 
with  a  somewhat  sorrowful  smile,  "you  would  have  continued 

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Cfte  purple  JLanD 

following  that  runaway  animal  with  the  side-saddle  to  the  end  of 
the  world." 

"I  can  say  this,"  I  returned  gravely,  "without  a  side-saddle,  good 
or  bad,  I  am  not  going  to  present  myself  before  her.  I  intend 
inquiring  at  every  house  on  my  way  to  the  Lomas  de  Rocha  till 
I  can  hear  of  one  for  sale." 

"What  will  you  give  for  one?"  said  he,  becoming  interested. 

"That  will  depend  on  its  condition.  If  it  is  as  good  as  new  I 
will  give  the  amount  it  cost  and  two  dollars  profit  besides." 

"I  know  of  a  side-saddle  that  cost  ten  dollars  a  year  ago,  but  it 
has  never  been  used.  It  belongs  to  a  neighbour  three  leagues  from 
here,  and  she  would  sell  it,  I  believe." 

"Show  me  the  house,"  I  said,  "and  I  will  go  directly  and  otfer 
twelve  dollars  for  it." 

"You  speak  of  Dona  Petrona's  side-saddle,  Antonio?"  said  the 

little  wife.  "She  would  sell  it  for  what  it  cost perhaps  for  eight 

dollars.  Ah,  pumpkin-head,  why  did  you  not  think  to  make  all 
that  profit?  Then  I  could  have  bought  slippers  and  a  thousand 
things." 

"You  are  never  satisfied,  Cleta,"  he  returned.  "Have  you  not 
got  slippers  to  your  feet?" 

She  tossed  up  a  pretty  foot  and  displayed  it  cased  in  rather  a 
shabby  little  slipper.  Then,  with  a  laugh,  she  kicked  it  off  towards 
him.  "There,"  she  exclaimed,  "put  it  in  your  bosom  and  keep  it — 
something  precious!  And  some  day  when  you  go  to  Montevideo, 
and  wish  to  appear  very  grand  before  all  the  town,  wear  it  on  your 
great  toe." 

"Who  expects  reason  from  a  woman  ?"  said  Antonio,  shrugging 
his  shoulders. 

"Reason!  you  have  no  more  brains  than  a  Muscovy  duck,  An- 
tonio. You  might  have  made  this  profit,  but  you  never  can  make 
money  like  other  men,  and  therefore  you  will  always  be  poorer  than 
the  spiders.  I  have  said  this  before  very  often,  and  only  hope  you 
will  not  forget  it,  for  in  future  I  intend  to  speak  of  other  things." 

"Where  would  I  have  got  the  ten  dollars  to  pay  Petrona  for 
the  saddle?"  he  retorted,  losing  his  temper. 

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Cfte  Purple  JLanD 

"My  friend,"  I  said,  "if  the  saddle  can  be  had,  it  is  only  just  that 
you  should  have  the  profit.  Take  ten  dollars,  and  if  you  buy  it  for 
me  I  will  pay  you  two  more." 

This  proposal  pleased  him  greatly,  while  Cleta,  the  volatile, 
clapped  her  hands  with  delight.  While  Antonio  prepared  to  go  to 
his  neighbour's  after  the  saddle  I  went  out  to  a  solitary  thorn-tree 
about  fifty  yards  from  the  rancho,  and,  spreading  my  poncho  in 
the  shade,  lay  down  to  sleep  the  siesta. 

Before  the  shepherd  had  been  long  gone  I  heard  a  great  noise 
in  the  house,  like  banging  on  doors  and  on  copper  vessels,  but  took 
no  notice,  supposing  it  to  proceed  from  Cleta  engaged  in  some  un- 
usually noisy  domestic  operation.  At  length  I  heard  a  voice  calling 
to  me,  "Senor!  Senor!" 

Getting  up.  I  went  to  the  kitchen,  but  no  person  was  there. 
Suddenly  a  loud  knock  was  given  on  the  door  communicating  with 
the  second  room.  "Oh,  my  friend,"  cried  Cleta's  voice  behind  it, 
"my  ruffian  of  a  husband  has  locked  me  in — can  you  let  me  out, 
do  you  think?" 

"Why  has  he  locked  you  in?"  I  asked. 

"The  question !  Because  he  is  a  brute,  of  course.  He  always  does 
it  when  he  goes  out.  Is  it  not  horrible  ?" 

"It  only  shows  how  fond  he  is  of  you,"  I  returned. 

"Are  you  so  atrocious  as  to  defend  him  ?  And  I  thought  you  had 
a  heart — so  handsome,  too!  When  I  saw  you  I  said,  Ah,  had  I 
married  this  man,  what  a  happy  life!" 

"Thank  you  for  your  good  opinion,"  I  said.  "I  am  very  sorry 
you  are  locked  in,  because  it  prevents  me  from  seeing  your  pretty 
face." 

"Oh,  you  think  it  pretty?  Then  you  must  let  me  out.  I  have 
put  up  my  hair  now,  and  look  prettier  than  when  you  saw  me." 

"You  look  prettier  with  it  down,"  I  answered. 

"Ah,  down  it  goes  again  then!"  she  exclaimed. — "Yes,  you  are 
right,  it  does  look  best  that  way.  Is  it  not  like  silk?  You  shall  feel 
it  when  you  liberate  me." 

"That  I  cannot  do,  Cleta  mine.  Your  Antonio  has  taken  away 
the  key." 

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Cbc  purple  LanD 

"Oh,  cruel  man!  He  left  me  no  water,  and  I  am  perishing  with 
thirst.  What  shall  I  do?  Look,  I  will  put  my  hand  under  the  door 
for  you  to  feel  how  hot  it  is;  I  am  consumed  with  fever  and  thirst 
in  this  oven." 

Presently  her  little  brown  hand  came  out  at  my  feet,  there  being 
sufficient  space  between  the  floor  and  wood  to  pass  it  through. 
I  stooped  and  took  it  in  mine,  and  found  it  a  hot,  moist  little  hand, 
with  a  pulse  beating  very  fast. 

"Poor  child!"  I  said,  "I  will  pour  some  water  in  a  plate  and 
pass  it  to  you  under  the  door." 

"Oh,  you  are  bad  to  insult  me!"  she  cried.  "What,  am  I  a  cat 
to  drink  water  from  a  plate?  I  could  cry  my  eyes  out";  here  fol- 
lowed sob-like  sounds.  "Besides,"  she  suddenly  resumed,  "it  is  fresh 
air,  not  water,  I  require.  I  am  suffocated,  I  cannot  breathe.  Oh,  dear 
friend,  save  me  from  fainting.  Force  back  the  door  till  the  bolt  slips 
out." 

"No,  no,  Cleta,  it  cannot  be  done." 

"What,  with  your  strength!  I  could  almost  do  it  myself  with 
my  poor  little  hands.  Open,  open,  open,  before  I  faint." 

She  had  evidently  sunk  down  on  the  floor  sobbing,  after  making 
that  practical  suggestion;  and,  casting  about  for  burglarious  im- 
plements to  aid  me,  I  found  the  spit  and  a  wedge-shaped  piece  of 
hard  wood.  These  I  inserted  just  above  and  below  the  lock,  and, 
forcing  back  the  door  on  its  frame,  I  soon  had  the  satisfaction  of 
seeing  the  bolt  slip  from  the  catch. 

Out  sprang  Cleta,  flushed,  tearful,  her  hair  all  in  disorder,  but 
laughing  gleefully  at  having  regained  her  liberty. 

"Oh,  dear  friend,  I  thought  you  were  going  to  leave  me!"  she 
cried.  "How  agitated  I  am — feel  how  my  heart  beats.  Never  mind, 
J  can  now  pay  that  wretch  out.  Is  not  revenge  sweet,  sweet,  sweet  ?" 

"Now,  Cleta,"  I  said,  "take  three  mouthfuls  of  fresh  air  and  a 
drink  of  water,  then  let  me  lock  you  in  again." 

She  laughed  mockingly,  and  shook  her  hair  like  a  wild  young 
colt. 

"Ah,  you  are  not  serious — do  you  not  think  I  know  ?"  she  cried. 
"Your  eyes  tell  me  everything.  Besides,  you  could  not  shut  me  up 

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Cfte  purple  LanD 

again  if  you  tried."  Here  she  made  a  sudden  dash  at  the  door,  but 
I  caught  her  and  held  her  a  close  prisoner. 

"Let  me  go,  monster — oh,  no,  not  monster,  dear,  sweet  friend, 
beautiful  as  the — moon,  sun,  stars.  I  am  dying  for  fresh  air.  I  will 
come  back  to  the  oven  before  he  returns.  If  he  caught  me  out,  what 
blows!  Come,  let  us  sit  under  the  tree  together." 

"That  would  be  disobeying  your  husband,"  I  said,  trying  to  look 
stern. 

"Never  mind,  I  will  confess  it  all  to  the  priest  some  day,  then  it 
will  be  as  if  it  had  never  happened.  Such  a  husband — poof!  If  you 
were  not  a  married  man — are  you  married  ?  What  a  pity !  Say  again, 
am  I  pretty?" 

"Say  first,  Cleta,  have  you  a  horse  a  woman  can  ride  on,  and  if 
you  have  one,  will  you  sell  it  to  me?" 

"Oh,  yes,  the  best  horse  in  the  Banda  Oriental.  They  say  it  is 
worth  six  dollars — will  you  buy  it  for  six  dollars?  No,  I  shall  not 
sell  it — I  shall  not  tell  you  that  I  have  a  horse  till  you  answer  me. 
Am  I  pretty,  sir  stranger?" 

"Tell  me  first  about  the  horse,  then  ask  me  what  you  like." 

"Nothing  more  will  I  tell  you — not  a  word.  Yes,  everything. 
Listen.  When  Antonio  comes  back,  ask  him  to  sell  you  a  horse  for 
your  wife  to  ride.  He  will  try  to  sell  you  one  of  his  own,  a  demon 
full  of  faults  like  his  master;  false-footed,  lame  in  the  shoulder,  a 
roarer,  old  as  the  south  wind.  A  black  piebald — remember.  Offer  to 
buy  a  roan  with  a  cream  nose.  That  is  my  horse.  Offer  him  six 
dollars.  Now  say,  am  I  pretty  ?" 

"Oh,  beautiful,  Cleta;  your  eyes  are  stars,  your  mouth  is  a  rose- 
bud, sweeter  than  honey  a  thousand  times." 

"Now  you  talk  like  a  wise  man,"  she  laughed ;  then,  holding  my 
hand,  she  led  me  to  the  tree  and  sat  down  by  my  side  on  the  poncho. 

"And  how  old  are  you,  little  one?"  I  asked. 

"Fourteen — is  that  very  old?  Ah,  fool,  to  tell  my  age  truly — no 
woman  does  that.  Why  did  I  not  say  thirteen?  And  I  have  been 
married  six  months,  such  a  long  time!  I  am  sure  I  have  green,  blue, 
yellow,  grey  hairs  coming  out  all  over  my  head  by  this  time.  And 
what  about  my  hair,  sir,  you  never  spoke  of  that?  Did  I  not  let  it 

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Cfte  purple  JLanD 

down  for  you  ?  Is  it  not  soft  and  beautiful  ?  Tell  me,  sir,  what  about 
my  hair?" 

"In  truth  it  is  soft  and  beautiful,  Cleta,  and  covers  you  like  a 
dark  cloud." 

"Does  it  not!  Look,  I  will  cover  my  face  with  it.  Now  I  am 
hidden  like  the  moon  in  a  cloud,  and  now,  look,  out  comes  the 
moon  again!  I  have  a  great  respect  for  the  moon.  Say,  holy  friar,  am 
I  like  the  moon?" 

"Say,  little  sweet  lips,  why  do  you  call  me  holy  friar?" 

"Say  first,  holy  friar,  am  I  like  the  moon?" 

"No,  Cleta,  you  are  not  like  the  moon,  though  you  are  both 
married  women;  you  are  married  to  Antonio " 

"Poor  me!" 

"And  the  moon  is  married  to  the  sun." 

"Happy  moon,  to  be  so  far  from  him!" 

"The  moon  is  a  quiet  wife,  but  you  chatter  like  a  paroquet." 

"And  am  I  not  able  to  be  quiet  also,  monk?  Look,  I  will  be 
quiet  as  the  moon — not  a  word,  not  a  breath."  Then  she  threw  her- 
self back  on  the  poncho,  feigning  sleep,  her  arms  above  her  head, 
her  hair  scattered  everywhere,  only  a  tress  or  two  half  shading  her 
flushed  face  and  round,  heaving  bosom  that  would  not  be  quiet. 
There  was  just  a  little  mocking  smile  on  her  lips,  just  a  little  gleam 
of  laughing  eyes  under  her  drooping  lashes,  for  she  could  not  help 
watching  my  face  for  admiration.  In  such  an  attitude  the  tempting 
little  witch  might  have  made  the  tepid  blood  of  an  ascetic  boil. 

Two  or  three  hours  thus  flew  swiftly  by  while  I  listened  to  her 
lively  prattle,  which,  like  the  lark's  singing,  had  scarcely  a  pause 
in  it,  her  attempt  at  being  still  and  moonlight  having  ended  in  a 
perfect  fiasco.  At  length,  pouting  her  pretty  lips  and  complaining 
of  her  hard  lot,  she  said  it  was  time  to  go  back  to  her  prison;  but 
all  the  time  I  was  engaged  in  forcing  back  the  bolt  into  its  place  she 
chattered  without  ceasing.  "Adieu,  Sun,  husband  of  the  moon,"  she 
said.  "Adieu,  sweet,  sweet  friend,  buyer  of  side-saddles!  They  were 
all  lies  you  told — I  know,  I  know.  You  want  a  horse  and  side- 
saddle to  carry  off  some  girl  to-night.  Happy  she!  Now  I  must  sit 

226 


Cfce  purple  Land 

in  the  dark  alone,  alone,  alone,  till  Antonio,  the  atrocious,  comes 
to  liberate  me  with  his  iron  key — ah,  fool!" 

Before  I  had  been  long  back  under  my  tree,  Antonio  appeared, 
bringing  the  side-saddle  in  triumph  on  his  horse  before  him.  After 
going  in  to  release  his  wife  he  came  out  and  invited  me  to  take 
mate.  I  then  mentioned  my  wish  to  buy  a  good  horse;  he  was  only 
too  willing  to  sell,  and  in  a  few  minutes  his  horses  were  driven  up 
for  inspection.  The  black  piebald  was  first  offered,  a  very  hand- 
some, quiet-looking  animal,  apparently  quite  sound.  The  cream- 
nose,  I  noticed,  was  a  bony,  long-bodied  brute,  with  sleepy  eyes 
and  a  ewe  neck.  Could  it  be  that  the  little  double-dealing  witch  had 
intended  to  deceive  me?  But  in  a  moment  I  dismissed  such  a  sus- 
picion with  the  scorn  it  merited.  Let  a  woman  be  as  false  as  she  can, 
and  able  to  fool  her  husband  to  the  top  of  her  bent,  she  is,  com- 
pared with  the  man  who  wishes  to  sell  you  a  horse,  openness  and 
truth  itself.  I  examined  the  piebald  critically,  walking  and  trotting 
him  round;  looked  into  his  mouth,  then  at  hoofs  and  fetlocks,  be- 
loved of  windgalls;  gazed  with  fixed  attention  into  his  eyes  and 
dealt  him  a  sudden  brisk  blow  on  the  shoulder. 

"No  weak  spot  will  you  find,  senor,"  said  Antonio  the  men- 
dacious, who  was  certainly  the  greatest  of  the  three  sinners  met  to- 
gether in  that  place.  "He  is  my  best  horse,  only  four  years  old, 
gentle  as  a  lamb,  sound  as  a  bell.  Sure-footed,  senor,  like  no  other 
horse;  and  with  such  an  easy  pace  you  can  ride  him  at  a  gallop  with 
a  tumbler  of  water  in  your  hand  and  not  spill  a  drop.  I  will  give 
him  away  to  you  for  ten  dollars,  because  you  have  been  generous 
about  the  side-saddle,  and  I  am  anxious  to  serve  you  well." 

"Thank  you,  my  friend,"  I  said.  "Your  piebald  is  fifteen  years 
old,  lame  in  the  shoulders,  broken  in  his  wind,  and  has  more  vices 
than  any  seven  horses  in  the  Banda  Oriental.  I  would  not  allow  my 
wife  to  ride  such  a  dangerous  brute,  for,  as  I  told  you,  I  have  not 
been  long  married." 

Antonio  framed  his  face  to  express  astonishment  and  virtue 
indignant;  then  with  the  point  of  his  knife  he  scratched  the  figure 
of  a  cross  on  the  ground,  and  was  about  to  swear  solemnly  on  it  that 
I  was  egregiously  mistaken,  that  his  beast  was  a  kind  of  equine 

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Cfte  Purple  JLanD 

angel,  or  a  Pegasus,  at  least,  when  I  interfered  to  stop  him.  "Tell 
as  many  lies  as  you  like,"  I  said,  "and  I  will  listen  to  them  with  the 
greatest  interest;  but  do  not  swear  on  the  figure  of  the  cross  to  what 
is  false,  for  then  the  four  or  five  or  six  dollars  profit  you  have  made 
on  the  side-saddle  will  scarcely  be  sufficient  to  buy  you  absolution 
for  such  a  sin." 

He  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  restored  the  sacrilegious  knife 
to  its  sheath.  "There  are  my  horses,"  he  said  in  an  injured  tone. 
"They  are  a  kind  of  animal  you  seem  to  know  a  great  deal  about; 
select  one  and  deceive  yourself.  I  have  endeavoured  to  serve  you; 
but  there  are  some  people  who  do  not  know  a  friend  when  they  see 


one." 


I  then  minutely  examined  all  the  other  horses,  and  finally 
finished  the  farce  by  tending  out  the  roan  cream-nose,  and  was 
pleased  to  notice  the  crestfallen  expression  of  my  good  shepherd. 

"Your  horses  do  not  suit  me,"  I  said,  "so  I  cannot  buy  one.  I  will, 
however,  purchase  this  old  cow;  for  it  is  the  only  animal  here  I 
could  trust  my  wife  on.  You  can  have  seven  dollars  for  it — not  one 
copper  more,  for,  like  the  Emperor  of  China,  I  speak  once  only." 

He  plucked  ofi  his  purple  headgear  and  scratched  his  raven 
head,  then  led  me  back  to  the  kitchen  to  consult  his  wife,  "For, 
senor,"  he  said,  "you  have,  by  some  fatality,  selected  her  horse." 
When  Cleta  heard  that  seven  dollars  had  been  offered  for  the  roan, 
she  laughed  with  joy.  "Oh,  Antonio,  he  is  only  worth  six  dollars! 
Yes,  senor,  you  shall  have  him,  and  pay  the  seven  dollars  to  me. 
Not  to  my  husband.  Who  will  say  now  that  I  cannot  make  money  ? 
And  now,  Antonio,  I  have  no  horse  to  ride  on,  you  can  give  me  the 
bay  with  white  forefeet." 

"Do  not  imagine  such  a  thing!"  exclaimed  her  husband. 

After  taking  mate  I  left  them  to  settle  their  affairs,  not  doubting 
which  would  come  out  best  from  a  trial  of  skill.  When  I  arrived  in 
sight  of  Peralta's  trees  I  unsaddled  and  picketed  my  horses,  then 
stretched  myself  out  on  my  rugs.  After  the  excitements  and 
pleasures  of  that  day,  which  had  robbed  me  of  my  siesta,  I  quickly 
fell  into  a  very  sound  sleep. 

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Cfte  Purple  LanD 


<0*&*&*<0*'0*^4™^<0*<0*&i&''^^ 


W 


CHAPTER  XXVII 

HEN  I  woke  I  did  not  remember  for  some  moments 
where  I  was.  Feeling  about  me,  my  hand  came  in 
contact  with  the  grass  wet  with  dew.  It  was  very  dark, 
only  low  down  in  the  sky  a  pale  gleam  of  light  gave  promise,  as  I 
imagined,  of  coming  day.  Then  recollection  flashed  upon  me,  and  I 
sprang  up  alarmed  to  my  feet,  only  to  discover  with  inexpressible 
relief  that  the  light  I  had  remarked  was  in  the  west,  not  the  east, 
and  proceeded  from  the  young  moon  just  sinking  beneath  the 
horizon.  Saddling  my  two  animals  expeditiously,  I  rode  to  Peralta's 
estancia,  and  on  arriving  there  carefully  drew  the  horses  into  the 
shadow  of  a  clump  of  trees  growing  on  the  borders  of  the  ancient, 
wellnigh  obliterated  foss  or  ditch.  I  then  dropped  on  to  the  ground 
so  as  to  listen  better  for  approaching  footsteps,  and  began  waiting 
for  Demetria.  It  was  past  midnight :  not  a  sound  reached  me  except 
at  intervals  the  mournful,  far-away,  reedy  note  of  the  little  nocturnal 
cicada  that  always  seemed  to  be  there  lamenting  the  lost  fortunes  of 
the  house  of  Peralta.  For  upwards  of  half  an  hour  I  remained  lying 
on  the  ground,  growing  more  anxious  every  moment  and  fearing 
that  Demetria  was  going  to  fail  me,  when  I  caught  a  sound  like  a 
human  whisper.  Listening  intently,  I  found  that  it  pronounced  my 
name  and  proceeded  from  a  clump  of  tall  thorn-apples  some  yards 
from  me. 

"Who  speaks?"  I  replied. 

The  tall,  gaunt  form  of  Ramona  drew  itself  up  out  of  the  weeds 
and  cautiously  approached  me.  She  was  shaking  with  nervous  ex- 
citement, and  had  not  ventured  to  come  near  without  speaking  for 
fear  of  being  mistaken  for  an  enemy  and  fired  at. 

"Mother  of  Heaven!"  she  exclaimed,  as  well  as  her  chattering 
teeth  would  allow  her  to  speak.  "I  have  been  so  agitated  all  the 

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Cfte  purple  JLanD 

evening !  Oh,  senor,  what  are  we  to  do  now  ?  Your  plan  was  such  a 
good  one;  when  I  heard  it  I  knew  an  angel  had  flown  down  and 
whispered  it  in  your  ear.  And  now  my  mistress  will  not  stir !  All  her 
things  are  ready — clothes,  money,  jewels;  and  for  the  last  hour  we 
have  been  urging  her  to  come  out,  but  nothing  will  serve.  She  will 
not  see  you,  senor." 

"Is  Don  Hilario  in  the  house  ?" 

"No,  he  is  out — could  anything  have  been  better?  But  it  is  use- 
less, she  has  lost  heart  and  will  not  come.  She  only  sits  crying  in 
her  room,  saying  that  she  cannot  look  on  your  face  again." 

"Go  and  tell  her  that  I  am  here  with  the  horses  waiting  for  her," 
I  said. 

"Senor,  she  knows  you  are  here.  Santos  watched  for  you  and 
hastened  in  to  inform  her  of  your  arrival.  Now  she  has  sent  me 
out  only  to  say  that  she  cannot  meet  you,  that  she  thanks  you  for  all 
you  have  done,  and  begs  you  to  go  away  and  leave  her." 

I  was  not  greatly  surprised  at  Demetria's  reluctance  to  meet  me 
at  the  last  moment,  but  was  determined  not  to  leave  without  first 
seeing  her  and  trying  to  change  her  mind.  Securing  the  horses  to  a 
tree,  I  went  with  Ramona  to  the  house.  Stealing  in  on  tiptoe,  we 
found  Demetria  in  that  room  where  she  had  received  me  the  eve- 
ning before  in  her  quaint  finery,  lying  on  the  sofa,  while  old  Santos 
stood  by  her  the  picture  of  distress.  The  moment  she  saw  me  enter 
she  covered  her  face  with  her  hands  and  turned  from  me.  Yet  a 
glance  was  sufficient  to  show  that  with  or  without  her  consent 
everything  had  been  got  ready  for  her  flight.  On  a  chair  near  her 
lay  a  pair  of  saddle-bags  in  which  her  few  belongings  had  been 
stowed;  a  mantilla  was  drawn  half  over  her  head,  and  by  her  side 
was  a  large  woollen  shawl,  evidently  intended  to  protect  her  against 
the  night  air. 

"Santos,"  I  said,  "go  out  to  the  horses  under  the  trees  and  wait 
there  for  us;  and  you,  Ramona,  say  good-bye  now  to  your  mistress, 
then  leave  us  together;  for  by  and  by  she  will  recover  courage  and 
go  with  me." 

Santos,  looking  immensely  relieved  and  grateful,  though  a  little 
surprised  at  my  confident  tone,  was  hurrying  out  when  I  pointed 

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Cfce  purple  JLanD 

to  the  saddle-bags.  He  nodded,  grinned,  and,  snatching  them  up, 
left  the  room.  Poor  old  Ramona  threw  herself  on  to  her  knees, 
sobbing  and  pouring  out  farewell  blessings  on  her  mistress,  kissing 
her  hands  and  hair  with  sorrowful  devotion. 

When  she  left  us  I  sat  down  by  Demetria's  side,  but  she  would 
not  take  her  hands  from  her  face  or  speak  to  me,  and  only  wept 
hysterically  when  I  addressed  her.  I  succeeded  at  last  in  getting  one 
of  her  hands  in  mine,  and  then  drew  her  head  gently  down  till  it 
rested  on  my  shoulder.  When  her  sobs  began  to  subside  I  said : 

"Tell  me,  dear  Demetria,  have  you  lost  faith  in  me  that  you  fear 
to  trust  yourself  with  me  now?" 

"No,  no,  Richard,  it  is  not  that,"  she  faltered.  "But  I  can  never 
look  into  your  face  again.  If  you  have  any  compassion  for  me  you 
will  leave  me  now." 

"What,  leave  you,  Demetria,  my  sister,  to  that  man — how  can 
you  imagine  such  a  thing?  Tell  me,  where  is  Don  Hilario — is  he 
coming  back  to-night?" 

"I  know  nothing.  He  may  come  back  at  any  moment.  Leave 
me,  Richard ;  every  minute  you  remain  here  increases  your  danger." 
Then  she  attempted  to  draw  away  from  me,  but  I  would  not  release 
her. 

"If  you  fear  his  returning  to-night,  then  it  is  time  for  you  to  come 
with  me,"  I  answered. 

"No,  no,  no,  I  cannot.  All  is  changed  now.  It  would  kill  me  with 
shame  to  look  on  your  face  again." 

"You  shall  look  on  it  again  many  times,  Demetria.  Do  you  think 
that  after  coming  here  to  rescue  you  out  of  the  coils  of  that  serpent 
I  am  going  to  leave  you  because  you  are  a  little  timid?  Listen, 
Demetria,  I  shall  save  you  from  that  devil  to-night,  even  if  I  have  to 
carry  you  out  in  my  arms.  Afterwards  we  can  consider  all  there  is 
to  be  done  about  your  father  and  your  property.  Perhaps  when  the 
poor  Colonel  is  taken  out  of  this  sad  atmosphere,  his  health,  his 
reason  even,  may  improve." 

"Oh,  Richard,  are  you  deceiving  me?"  she  exclaimed,  suddenly 
dropping  her  hands  and  gazing  full  into  my  face. 

"No,  I  am  not  deceiving  you.  And  now  you  will  lose  all  fear, 

231 


Oc  Purple  Land 

Demetria,  for  you  have  looked  into  my  face  again  and  have  not 
been  changed  to  stone." 

She  turned  crimson  in  a  moment;  but  did  not  attempt  to  cover 
her  face  again,  for  just  then  a  clatter  of  hoofs  was  heard  approach- 
ing the  house. 

"Mother  of  Heaven,  save  us!"  she  exclaimed  in  terror.  "It  is  Don 
Hilario." 

I  quickly  blew  out  the  one  candle  burning  dimly  in  the  room. 
"Fear  nothing,"  I  said.  "When  all  is  quiet,  after  he  has  gone  to  his 
room,  we  will  make  our  escape." 

She  was  trembling  with  apprehension  and  nestled  close  to  me; 
while  we  both  listened  intently  and  heard  Don  Hilario  unsaddle 
his  horse,  then  going  softly,  whistling  to  himself,  to  his  room. 

"Now  he  has  shut  himself  up,"  I  said,  "and  in  a  few  minutes 
will  be  asleep.  When  you  think  of  that  man  whose  persecutions 
have  made  your  life  a  burden,  so  that  you  tremble  when  he  ap- 
proaches you,  do  you  not  feel  glad  that  I  have  come  to  take  you 
away  ?" 

"Richard,  I  could  go  willingly  with  you  to-night  but  for  one 
thing.  Do  you  think  after  what  has  passed  that  I  could  ever  face 
your  wife?" 

"She  will  know  nothing  of  what  has  passed,  Demetria.  It  would 
be  dishonourable  in  me  and  a  cruel  injustice  to  you  to  speak  to  her 
of  it.  She  will  welcome  you  as  a  dear  sister  and  love  you  as  much  as 
I  love  you.  All  these  doubts  and  fears  troubling  you  are  very  unsub- 
stantial and  can  be  blown  away  like  thistle-down.  And  now  that  you 
have  confessed  so  much  to  me,  Demetria,  I  wish  to  confess  also  the 
one  thing  that  troubles  my  heart." 

"What  is  it,  Richard,  tell  me?"  she  said  very  gently. 

"Believe  me,  Demetria,  I  never  had  a  suspicion  that  you  loved 
me.  Your  manner  did  not  show  it,  otherwise  I  should  have  told 
you  long  ago  all  about  my  past.  I  only  knew  you  regarded  me  as  a 
friend  and  one  you  could  trust.  If  I  have  been  mistaken  all  along, 
Demetria,  if  you  have  really  felt  a  passion  in  your  heart,  then  I 
shall  have  to  lament  bitterly  that  I  have  been  the  cause  of  a  lasting 

232 


Cbe  purple  LanD 

sorrow  to  you.  Will  you  not  open  your  heart  more  to  me  and  tell 
me  frankly  how  it  is  with  you?" 

She  caressed  my  hand  in  silence  for  a  little  while,  and  then 
answered,  "I  think  you  were  right,  Richard.  Perhaps  I  am  not 
capable  of  passion  like  some  women.  I  felt — I  knew  that  you  were 
my  friend.  To  be  near  you  was  like  sitting  in  the  shade  of  a  green 
tree  in  some  hot,  desolate  place.  I  thought  it  would  be  pleasant  to  sit 
there  always  and  forget  the  bitter  years.  But,  Richard,  if  you  will 
always  be  my  friend — my  brother,  I  shall  be  more  than  content, 
and  my  life  will  seem  different." 

"Demetria,  how  happy  you  have  made  me!  Come,  the  serpent 
is  sleeping  now,  let  us  steal  away  and  leave  him  to  his  evil  dreams. 
God  grant  that  I  may  return  some  day  to  bruise  his  head  with  my 
heel." 

Then,  wrapping  the  shawl  about  her,  I  led  her  out,  treading 
softly,  and  in  a  few  moments  we  were  with  Santos,  patiently  keep- 
ing watch  beside  the  horses. 

I  gladly  let  him  assist  Demetria  to  her  seat  on  the  side-saddle, 
for  that  was  perhaps  the  last  personal  service  he  would  be  able  to 
render  her.  The  poor  old  fellow  was  crying,  I  believe,  his  utterance 
was  so  husky.  Before  leaving  I  gave  him  on  a  scrap  of  paper  my  ad- 
dress in  Montevideo,  and  bade  him  take  it  to  Don  Florentine  Blanco 
with  a  request  to  write  me  a  letter  in  the  course  of  the  next  two  or 
three  days  to  inform  me  of  Don  Hilario's  movements.  We  then 
trotted  softly  away  over  the  sward,  and  in  about  half  an  hour  struck 
the  road  leading  from  Rocha  to  Montevideo.  This  we  followed  till 
daylight,  scarcely  pausing  once  from  our  swift  gallop,  and  a  hun- 
dred times  during  that  dark  ride  over  a  country  utterly  unknown 
to  me  I  blessed  the  little  witch  Cleta;  for  never  was  there  a  more 
steady,  sure-footed  beast  than  the  ugly  roan  that  carried  my  com- 
panion, and  when  we  drew  rein  in  the  pale  morning  light  he 
seemed  fresh  as  when  we  started.  We  then  left  the  highway  and 
rode  across  country  in  a  north-westerly  direction  for  a  distance  of 
eight  or  nine  miles,  for  I  was  anxious  to  be  far  away  from  public 
roads  and  from  the  prying,  prating  people  that  use  them.  About 
eleven  o'clock  that  morning  we  had  breakfast  at  a  rancho,  then  rode 

233 


Cbe  Purple  JLanD 

on  again  till  we  came  to  a  forest  of  scattered  thorn-trees  growing  on 
the  slopes  of  a  range  of  hills.  It  was  a  wild,  secluded  spot,  with 
water  and  good  pasturage  for  the  horses  and  pleasant  shade  for  our- 
selves; so,  after  unsaddling  and  turning  loose  our  horses  to  feed,  we 
sat  down  to  rest  under  a  large  tree  with  our  backs  against  its  portly 
trunk.  From  our  shady  retreat  we  commanded  a  splendid  view  of 
the  country  over  which  we  had  been  riding  all  the  morning,  ex- 
tending for  many  leagues  behind  us,  and  while  I  smoked  my  cigar 
I  talked  to  my  companion,  calling  her  attention  to  the  beauty  of 
that  wide,  sunlit  prospect. 

"Do  you  know,  Demetria,"  I  said,  "when  the  long  winter  eve- 
nings come,  and  I  have  plenty  of  leisure,  I  intend  writing  a  history 
of  my  wanderings  in  the  Banda  Oriental,  and  I  will  call  my  book 
The  Purple  Land;  for  what  more  suitable  name  can  one  find  for  a 
country  so  stained  with  the  blood  of  her  children?  You  will  never 
read  it,  of  course,  for  I  shall  write  it  in  English,  and  only  for  the 
pleasure  it  will  give  to  my  own  children — if  I  ever  have  any — at 
some  distant  date,  when  their  little  moral  and  intellectual  stomachs 
are  prepared  for  other  food  than  milk.  But  you  will  have  a  very 
important  place  in  my  narrative,  Demetria,  for  during  these  last 
days  we  have  been  very  much  to  each  other.  And  perhaps  the  very 
last  chapter  will  recount  this  wild  ride  of  ours  together,  flying  from 
that  evil  genius  Hilario  to  some  blessed  refuge  far  away  beyond  the 
hills  and  woods  and  the  blue  line  of  the  horizon.  For  when  we 
reach  the  capital  I  believe — I  think — I  know,  in  fact 

I  hesitated  to  tell  her  that  it  would  probably  be  necessary  for  me 
to  leave  the  country  immediately,  but  she  did  not  encourage  me  to 
go  on,  and,  glancing  round,  I  discovered  that  she  was  fast  asleep. 

Poor  Demetria,  she  had  been  dreadfully  nervous  all  night  and 
almost  afraid  to  stop  to  rest  anywhere,  but  now  her  fatigue  had 
quite  overcome  her.  Her  position  against  the  tree  was  uncomfort- 
able and  insecure,  so,  drawing  her  head  very  gently  down  until  it 
rested  on  my  shoulder,  and  shading  her  eyes  with  her  mantilla,  I 
let  her  sleep  on.  Her  face  looked  strangely  worn  and  pallid  in  that 
keen  noonday  light,  and,  gazing  on  it  while  she  slumbered,  and 
remembering  all  the  dark  years  of  grief  and  anxiety  she  had  en- 

234 


Cfce  purple  LanD 

dured  down  to  that  last  pain  of  which  I  had  been  the  innocent 
cause,  I  felt  my  eyes  grow  dim  with  compassion. 

After  sleeping  for  about  two  hours  she  woke  with  a  start,  and 
was  greatly  distressed  to  learn  that  I  had  been  supporting  her  all 
that  time.  But  after  that  refreshing  slumber  a  change  seemed  to 
come  over  her.  Not  only  her  great  fatigue,  but  the  tormenting  ap- 
prehensions had  very  nearly  vanished.  Out  of  the  nettle  Danger 
she  had  plucked  the  flower  Safety,  and  now  she  could  rejoice  in  its 
possession  and  was  filled  with  new  life  and  spirits.  The  unaccus- 
tomed freedom  and  exercise,  with  constant  change  of  scene,  also 
had  an  exhilarating  effect  on  mind  and  body.  A  new  colour  came 
into  her  pale  cheeks;  the  purple  stains  telling  of  anxious  days  and 
sleepless  nights  faded  away;  she  smiled  brightly  and  was  full  of 
animation,  so  that  on  that  long  journey,  whether  resting  in  the 
noonday  shade  or  swiftly  cantering  over  the  green  turf,  I  could  not 
have  had  a  more  agreeable  companion  than  Demetria.  This  change 
in  her  often  made  me  remember  Santos'  pathetic  words  when  he 
told  of  the  ravages  of  grief,  and  said  that  another  life  would  make 
his  mistress  a  "flower  amongst  women."  It  was  a  comfort  that  her 
affection  for  me  had  been,  indeed,  nothing  but  affection.  But  what 
was  I  to  do  with  her  in  the  end  ?  for  I  knew  that  my  wife  was  most 
anxious  to  return  without  further  delay  to  her  own  country;  and 
yet  it  seemed  to  me  that  it  would  be  a  hard  thing  to  leave  poor 
Demetria  behind  amongst  strangers.  Finding  her  so  improved  in 
spirits,  I  at  length  ventured  to  speak  to  her  on  the  subject.  At  first 
she  was  depressed,  but  presently,  recovering  courage,  she  begged 
to  be  allowed  to  go  with  us  to  Buenos  Ayres.  The  prospect  of  being 
left  alone  was  unendurable  to  her,  for  in  Montevideo  she  had  no 
personal  friends,  while  the  political  friends  of  her  family  were  all 
out  of  the  country,  or  living  in  very  close  retirement.  Across  the 
water  she  would  be  with  friends  and  safe  for  a  season  from  her 
dreaded  enemy.  This  proposal  seemed  a  very  sensible  one,  and  re- 
lieved my  mind  very  much,  although  it  only  served  to  remove  my 
difficulty  for  a  time. 

In  the  department  of  Camelones,  about  six  leagues  from  Monte- 
video, I  found  the  house  of  a  fellow-countryman  named  Barker, 

235 


Cije 


JLanD 


who  had  lived  for  many  years  in  the  country  and  had  a  wife  and 
children.  We  arrived  in  the  afternoon  at  his  cstanda,  and,  seeing 
that  Demetria  was  very  much  knocked  up  with  our  long  journey, 
I  asked  Mr.  Barker  to  give  us  shelter  for  the  night.  Our  host  was 
very  kind  and  pleasant  with  us,  asking  no  disagreeable  questions, 
and  after  a  few  hours'  acquaintance,  which  made  us  quite  intimate, 
I  took  him  aside  and  told  him  Demetria's  history,  whereupon,  like 
the  good-hearted  fellow  he  was,  he  at  once  offered  to  shelter  her  in 
his  house  until  matters  could  be  arranged  in  Montevideo,  an  ofTer 
which  was  joyfully  accepted. 


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Cfte  purple  JLanD 


CHAPTER  XXVIII 

I  WAS  soon  back  in  Montevideo  after  that.  When  I  bade  De- 
metria  good-bye  she  appeared  reluctant  to  part  with  me,  re- 
taining my  hand  in  hers  for  an  unusual  time.  For  the  first  time 
in  her  life,  probably,  she  was  about  to  be  left  in  the  company  of 
entire  strangers,  and  for  many  days  past  we  had  been  much  to  each 
other,  so  that  it  was  only  natural  she  should  cling  to  me  a  little  at 
parting.  Once  more  I  pressed  her  hand  and  exhorted  her  to  be  of 
good  courage,  reminding  her  that  in  a  very  few  days  all  trouble 
and  danger  would  be  over;  still,  however,  she  did  not  release  my 
hand.  This  tender  reluctance  to  lose  me  was  affecting  and  also 
flattering,  but  slightly  inopportune,  for  I  was  anxious  to  be  in  the 
saddle  and  away.  Presently  she  said,  glancing  down  at  her  rusty 
habiliments,  "Richard,  if  I  am  to  remain  concealed  here  till  I  go  to 
join  you  on  board,  then  I  must  meet  your  wife  in  these  poor  gar- 
ments." 

"Oh,  that  is  what  you  are  thinking  about,  Demetria!"  I  ex- 
claimed. 

At  once  I  called  in  our  kind  hostess,  and  when  this  serious  mat- 
ter was  explained  to  her  she  immediately  offered  to  go  to  Monte- 
video to  procure  the  necessary  outfit,  a  thing  I  had  thought  nothing 
about,  but  which  had  evidently  been  preying  on  Demetria's  mind. 

When  I  at  length  reached  the  little  suburban  retreat  of  my  aunt 
(by  marriage),  Paquita  and  I  acted  for  some  time  like  two  demented 
persons,  so  overjoyed  were  we  at  meeting  after  our  long  separation. 
I  had  received  no  letters  from  her,  and  only  two  or  three  of  the 
score  I  had  written  had  reached  their  destination,  so  that  we  had  ten 
thousand  questions  to  ask  and  answers  to  make.  She  could  never 
gaze  enough  at  me  or  finish  admiring  my  bronzed  skin  and  the  re- 
spectable moustache  I  had  grown;  while  she,  poor  darling!  looked 

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Cfte  purple  Land 

unusually  pale,  yet  withal  so  beautiful  that  I  marvelled  at  myself 
for  having,  after  possessing  her,  considered  any  other  woman  even 
passably  good-looking.  I  gave  her  a  circumstantial  account  of  my 
adventures,  omitting  only  a  few  matters  I  was  in  honour  bound  not 
to  disclose. 

Thus,  when  I  told  her  the  story  of  my  sojourn  at  the  estancia 
Peralta,  I  said  nothing  to  betray  Demetria's  confidence;  nor  did  I 
think  it  necessary  to  mention  the  episode  of  that  wicked  little  sprite, 
Cleta ;  with  the  result  that  she  was  pleased  at  the  chivalrous  conduct 
I  had  displayed  throughout  the  whole  of  that  affair,  and  was  ready 
to  take  Demetria  to  her  heart. 

I  had  not  been  back  twenty-four  hours  in  Montevideo  before  a 
letter  from  the  Lomas  de  Rocha  storekeeper  came  to  justify  my 
caution  in  having  left  Demetria  at  some  distance  from  the  town. 
The  letter  informed  me  that  Don  Hilario  had  quickly  guessed  that 
I  had  carried  off  his  unhappy  master's  daughter,  and  that  no  doubt 
was  left  in  his  mind  when  he  discovered  that,  on  the  day  I  left  the 
estancia,  a  person  answering  to  my  description  in  every  particular 
had  purchased  a  horse  and  side-saddle  and  had  ridden  off  towards 
the  estancia  in  the  evening.  My  correspondent  warned  me  that  Don 
Hilario  would  be  in  Montevideo  even  before  his  letter,  also  that  he 
had  discovered  something  about  my  connection  with  the  late  re- 
bellion, and  would  be  sure  to  place  the  matter  in  the  hands  of  the 
government,  so  as  to  have  me  arrested,  after  which  he  would  have 
little  difficulty  in  compelling  Demetria  to  return  to  the  estancia. 

For  a  moment  this  intelligence  dismayed  me.  Luckily,  Paquita 
was  out  of  the  house  when  it  came,  and  fearing  that  she  might  re- 
turn and  surprise  me  while  I  was  in  that  troubled  state,  I  rushed  out ; 
then,  skulking  through  back  streets  and  narrow  lanes,  peering  cau- 
tiously about  in  fear  of  encountering  the  minions  of  the  law,  I  made 
my  escape  out  of  the  town.  My  only  desire  just  then  was  to  get 
away  into  some  place  of  safety  where  I  would  be  able  to  think  over 
the  position  quietly,  and  if  possible  devise  some  plan  to  defeat  Don 
Hilario,  who  had  been  a  little  too  quick  for  me.  Of  many  schemes 
that  suggested  themselves  to  my  mind,  while  I  sat  in  the  shade  of  a 
cactus  hedge  about  a  mile  from  town,  I  finally  determined,  in  ac- 

238 


Cfte  purple 

cordance  with  my  old  and  well-tried  rule,  to  adopt  the  boldest 
one,  which  was  to  go  straight  back  to  Montevideo  and  claim  the 
protection  of  my  country.  The  only  trouble  was  that  on  my  way 
thither  I  might  be  caught,  and  then  Paquita  would  be  in  terrible 
distress  about  me,  and  perhaps  Demetria's  escape  would  be  pre- 
vented. While  I  was  occupied  with  these  thoughts  I  saw  a  closed 
carriage  pass  by,  driven  towards  the  town  by  a  tipsy-looking  coach- 
man. Coming  out  of  my  hiding-place,  I  managed  to  stop  him  and 
offered  him  two  dollars  to  drive  me  to  the  British  Consulate.  The 
carriage  was  a  private  one,  but  the  two  dollars  tempted  the  man, 
so  after  securing  the  fare  in  advance,  he  allowed  me  to  get  in,  and 
then  I  closed  the  windows,  leant  back  on  the  cushion,  and  was 
driven  rapidly  and  comfortably  to  the  house  of  refuge.  I  introduced 
myself  to  the  Consul,  and  told  him  a  story  concocted  for  the  oc- 
casion, a  judicious  mixture  of  truth  and  lies,  to  the  effect  that  I  had 
been  unlawfully  and  forcibly  seized  and  compelled  to  serve  in  the 
Blanco  army,  dnd  that,  having  escaped  from  the  rebels  and  made 
my  way  to  Montevideo,  I  was  amazed  to  hear  that  the  government 
proposed  arresting  me.  He  asked  me  a  few  questions,  looked  at  the 
passport  which  he  had  sent  me  a  few  days  before,  then,  laughing 
good-humouredly,  put  on  his  hat  and  invited  me  to  accompany  him 
to  the  War  Office  close  by.  The  secretary,  Colonel  Arocena,  he  in- 
formed me,  was  a  personal  friend  of  his,  and  if  we  could  see  him  it 
would  be  all  right.  Walking  by  his  side  I  felt  quite  safe  and  bold 
again,  for  I  was,  in  a  sense,  walking  with  my  hand  resting  on  the 
superb  mane  of  the  British  Lion,  whose  roar  was  not  to  be  provoked 
with  impunity.  At  the  War  Office  I  was  introduced  by  the  Consul 
to  his  friend,  Colonel  Arocena,  a  genial  old  gentleman  with  a  bald 
head  and  a  cigarette  between  his  lips.  He  listened  with  some  in- 
terest and  a  smile,  slightly  incredulous  I  thought,  to  the  sad  story 
of  the  ill-treatment  I  had  been  subjected  to  at  the  hands  of  Santa 
Coloma's  rebellious  rascals.  When  I  had  finished  he  pushed  over  a 
sheet  of  paper  on  which  he  had  scrawled  a  few  words  to  me,  with 
the  remark,  "Here,  my  young  friend,  take  this,  and  you  will  be  safe 
in  Montevideo.  We  have  heard  about  your  doings  in  Florida,  also  in 

239 


Cfte  purple  JLanD 

Rocha,  but  we  do  not  propose  going  to  war  with  England  on  your 


account." 


At  this  speech  we  all  laughed;  then  when  I  had  pocketed  the 
paper,  which  bore  the  sacred  seal  of  the  War  Office  on  the  margin 
and  requested  all  persons  to  refrain  from  molesting  the  bearer  in  his 
lawful  outgoings  and  incomings,  we  thanked  the  pleasant  old 
Colonel  and  retired.  I  spent  half  an  hour  strolling  about  with  the 
Consul,  then  we  separated.  I  had  noticed  two  men  in  military  uni- 
form at  some  distance  from  us  when  we  were  together,  and  now, 
returning  homewards,  I  found  that  they  were  following  me.  By 
and  by  they  overtook  me,  and  politely  intimated  their  intention  of 
making  me  their  prisoner.  I  smiled,  and,  drawing  forth  my  pro- 
tection from  the  War  Office,  handed  it  to  them.  They  looked  sur- 
prised, and  gave  it  back,  with  an  apology  for  having  molested  me, 
then  left  me  to  pursue  my  way  in  peace. 

I  had,  of  course,  been  very  lucky  throughout  all  this  adventure; 
still,  I  did  not  wish  to  attribute  my  easy  escape  entirely  to  luck,  for 
I  had,  I  thought,  contributed  a  good  deal  towards  it  by  my  prompt- 
ness in  acting  and  in  inventing  a  plausible  story  on  the  spur  of  the 
moment. 

Feeling  very  much  elated,  I  strolled  along  the  sunny  streets, 
gaily  swinging  my  cane,  when,  turning  a  corner  near  Dona  Isidora's 
house,  I  suddenly  came  face  to  face  with  Don  Hilario.  This  unex- 
pected encounter  threw  us  both  ofT  our  guard,  he  recoiling  two  or 
three  paces  backward  and  turning  as  pale  as  the  nature  of  his  com- 
plexion would  allow.  I  recovered  first  from  the  shock.  So  far  I  had 
been  able  to  baffle  him,  and  knew,  moreover,  many  things  of  which 
he  was  ignorant;  still,  he  was  there  in  the  town  with  me  and  had  to 
be  reckoned  with,  and  I  quickly  resolved  to  meet  him  as  a  friend, 
affecting  entire  ignorance  of  his  object  in  coming  to  Montevideo. 

"Don  Hilario — you  here!  Happy  the  eyes  that  behold  you,"  I 
exclaimed,  seizing  and  shaking  his  hand,  pretending  to  be  overjoyed 
at  the  meeting. 

In  a  moment  he  recovered  his  usual  self-possessed  manner,  and 
when  I  asked  after  Dona  Demetria  he  answered  after  a  moment's 
hesitation  that  she  was  in  very  good  health. 

240 


Cfte  purple  JLanD 

"Come,  Don  Hilario,"  I  said,  "we  are  close  to  my  aunt  Isidora's 
house,  where  I  am  staying,  and  it  will  give  me  great  pleasure  to 
present  you  to  my  wife,  who  will  be  glad  to  thank  you  for  your 
kindness  to  me  at  the  estancia." 

"Your  wife,  Don  Ricardo!  Do  you  tell  me  that  you  are  married?" 
he  exclaimed  in  amazement,  thinking  probably  that  I  was  already 
the  husband  of  Demetria. 

"What,  did  I  not  tell  you  before!"  I  said.  "Ah,  I  remember  speak- 
ing to  Dona  Demetria  about  it.  Strange  that  she  has  not  mentioned 
it  to  you.  Yes,  I  was  married  before  coming  to  this  country — my  wife 
is  an  Argentine.  Come  with  me  and  you  shall  see  a  beautiful  woman, 
if  that  is  an  inducement." 

He  was  without  doubt  astonished  and  mystified,  but  he  had 
recovered  his  mask,  and  was  now  polite,  collected,  watchful. 

When  we  entered  the  house  I  presented  him  to  Dona  Isidora, 
who  happened  to  be  in  the  way,  and  left  her  to  entertain  him.  I  was 
very  glad  to  do  so,  knowing  that  he  would  seize  the  opportunity 
to  try  and  discover  something  from  the  garrulous  old  lady,  and  that 
he  would  discover  nothing,  since  she  had  not  been  let  into  our 
secrets. 

I  found  Paquita  lying  down  in  her  room  having  a  siesta;  and 
while  she  arrayed  herself  at  my  express  desire  in  her  best  dress — a 
black  velvet  which  set  off  her  matchless  beauty  better  than  anything 
else,  I  told  her  how  I  wished  her  to  treat  Don  Hilario.  She  knew  all 
about  him,  of  course,  and  hated  him  with  all  her  heart,  looking  on 
him  as  a  kind  of  evil  genius  from  whose  castle  I  had  carried  off  the 
unhappy  Demetria;  but  I  made  her  understand  that  our  wisest  plan 
was  to  treat  him  graciously.  She  readily  consented,  for  Argentine 
women  can  be  more  charmingly  gracious  than  any  other  women  on 
the  globe,  and  what  people  do  well  they  like  to  be  called  on  to  do. 

The  subtle  caution  of  our  snaky  guest  did  not  serve  to  hide  from 
my  watchful  eyes  that  he  was  very  much  surprised  when  he  beheld 
her.  She  placed  herself  near  him  and  spoke  in  her  sweetest,  artless 
manner  of  the  pleasure  my  return  had  given  her,  and  of  the  grati- 
tude she  had  felt  towards  him  and  all  the  people  at  the  estancia 
Peralta  for  the  hospitable  treatment  I  had  received  there.  He  was, 

241 


Cfte  purple  JLanD 

as  I  had  foreseen,  completely  carried  away  by  her  exquisite  beauty 
and  the  charm  of  her  manner  towards  him.  He  was  flattered,  and 
exerted  himself  to  be  agreeable,  but  at  the  same  time  he  was  very 
much  puzzled.  The  baffled  expression  was  more  apparent  on  his 
face  every  moment,  while  his  restless  glances  darted  here  and  there 
about  the  room,  yet  ever  returned,  like  the  doomed  moth  to  the 
candle,  to  those  lustrous  violet  eyes  overflowing  with  hypocritical 
kindness.  Paquita's  acting  delighted  me,  and  I  only  hoped  that  he 
would  long  suffer  from  the  effect  of  the  subtle  poison  she  was  intro- 
ducing into  his  system.  When  he  rose  to  go  I  was  sure  that  De- 
metria's  disappearance  was  a  greater  mystery  to  him  than  ever ;  and 
as  a  parting  shot  I  warmly  invited  him  to  come  and  see  us  frequently 
while  he  remained  in  the  capital,  even  offering  him  a  bed  in  the 
house;  while  Paquita,  not  to  be  behindhand,  for  she  had  thor- 
oughly entered  into  the  fun  of  the  thing,  entrusted  him  with  a 
prettily  worded,  affectionate  message  to  Demetria,  a  person  whom 
she  already  loved  and  hoped  some  day  to  meet. 

Two  days  after  this  adventure  I  heard  that  Don  Hilario  had  left 
Montevideo.  That  he  had  discovered  nothing  I  was  positive;  it  was 
possible,  however,  that  he  had  left  some  person  to  watch  the  house, 
and,  as  Paquita  was  now  anxious  to  get  back  to  her  own  country,  I 
determined  to  delay  our  departure  no  longer. 

Going  down  to  the  harbour,  I  found  the  captain  of  a  small 
schooner  trading  between  Montevideo  and  Buenos  Ayres,  and, 
learning  that  he  intended  leaving  for  the  last  port  in  three  days' 
time,  I  bargained  with  him  to  take  us,  and  got  him  also  to  consent 
to  receive  Demetria  on  board  at  once.  I  then  sent  a  message  to  Mr. 
Barker,  asking  him  to  bring  his  guest  up  to  town  and  put  her  on 
board  the  schooner  without  coming  near  me.  Two  days  later,  early 
in  the  morning,  I  heard  that  she  was  safe  on  board;  and,  having 
thus  baffled  the  scoundrel  Hilario,  on  whose  ophidian  skull  I  should 
have  been  very  pleased  to  set  my  heel,  and  having  still  an  idle  day 
before  me,  I  went  once  more  to  visit  the  mountain,  to  take  from 
its  summit  my  last  view  of  the  Purple  Land  where  I  had  spent  so 
many  eventful  days. 

When  I  approached  the  crest  of  the  great,  solitary  hill  I  did  not 

242 


Cf)c  Purple  LanD 

gaze  admiringly  on  the  magnificent  view  that  opened  before  me, 
nor  did  the  wind,  blowing  fresh  from  the  beloved  Atlantic,  seem  to 
exhilarate  me.  My  eyes  were  cast  down  and  I  dragged  my  feet  like 
one  that  was  weary.  Yet  I  was  not  weary,  but  now  I  began  to  re- 
member that  on  a  former  occasion  I  had  on  this  mountain  spoken 
many  vain  and  foolish  things  concerning  a  people  about  whose 
character  and  history  I  was  then  ignorant.  I  also  remembered  with 
exceeding  bitterness  that  my  visit  to  this  land  had  been  the  cause  of 
great  and  perhaps  lasting  sorrow  to  one  noble  heart. 

How  often,  said  I  to  myself,  have  I  repented  of  those  cruel, 
scornful  words  I  addressed  to  Dolores  at  our  last  interview;  and 
now  once  more  "I  come  to  pluck  the  berries  harsh  and  crude"  of 
repentance  and  of  expiation,  to  humble  my  insular  pride  in  the  dust 
and  unsay  all  the  unjust  things  I  formerly  spoke  in  my  haste. 

It  is  not  an  exclusively  British  characteristic  to  regard  the  people 
of  other  nationalities  with  a  certain  amount  of  contempt,  but  with 
us,  perhaps,  the  feeling  is  stronger  than  with  others,  or  else  ex- 
pressed with  less  reserve.  Let  me  now  at  last  rid  myself  of  this  error, 
which  is  harmless  and  perhaps  even  commendable  in  those  who 
stay  at  home,  and  also  very  natural,  since  it  is  a  part  of  our  unrea- 
sonable nature  to  distrust  and  dislike  the  things  that  are  far  removed 
and  unfamiliar.  Let  me  at  last  divest  myself  of  these  old  English 
spectacles,  framed  in  oak  and  with  lenses  of  horn,  to  bury  them 
for  ever  in  this  mountain,  which  for  half  a  century  and  upwards 
has  looked  down  on  the  struggles  of  a  young  and  feeble  people 
against  foreign  aggression  and  domestic  foes,  and  where  a  few 
months  ago  I  sang  the  praises  of  British  civilisation,  lamenting  that 
it  had  been  planted  here  and  abundantly  watered  with  blood,  only 
to  be  plucked  up  again  and  cast  into  the  sea.  After  my  rambles  in 
the  interior,  where  I  carried  about  in  me  only  a  fading  remnant  of 
that  old  time-honoured  superstition  to  prevent  the  most  perfect 
sympathy  between  me  and  the  natives  I  mixed  with,  I  cannot  say 
that  I  am  of  that  opinion  now.  I  cannot  believe  that  if  this  country 
had  been  conquered  and  re-colonised  by  England,  and  all  that  is 
crooked  in  it  made  straight  according  to  our  notions,  my  inter- 
course with  the  people  would  have  had  the  wild,  delightful  flavour 

243 


Cfte  Purple  JLanD 

I  have  found  in  it.  And  if  that  distinctive  flavour  cannot  be  had 
along  with  the  material  prosperity  resulting  from  Anglo-Saxon 
energy,  I  must  breathe  the  wish  that  this  land  may  never  know  such 
prosperity.  I  do  not  wish  to  be  murdered;  no  man  does;  yet  rather 
than  see  the  ostrich  and  deer  chased  beyond  the  horizon,  the  fla- 
mingo and  black-necked  swan  slain  on  the  blue  lakes,  and  the  herds- 
man sent  to  twang  his  romantic  guitar  in  Hades  as  a  preliminary  to 
security  of  person,  I  would  prefer  to  go  about  prepared  at  any 
moment  to  defend  my  life  against  the  sudden  assaults  of  the  assassin. 
We  do  not  live  by  bread  alone,  and  British  occupation  does  not 
give  to  the  heart  all  the  things  for  which  it  craves.  Blessings  may 
even  become  curses  when  the  gigantic  power  that  bestows  them  on 
us  scares  from  our  midst  the  shy  spirits  of  Beauty  and  of  Poesy.  Nor 
is  it  solely  because  it  appeals  to  the  poetic  feelings  in  us  that  this 
country  endears  itself  to  my  heart.  It  is  the  perfect  republic:  the 
sense  of  emancipation  experienced  in  it  by  the  wanderer  from  the 
Old  World  is  indescribably  sweet  and  novel.  Even  in  our  ultra- 
civilised  condition  at  home  we  do  periodically  escape  back  to  nature ; 
and,  breathing  the  fresh  mountain  air  and  gazing  over  vast  expanses 
of  ocean  and  land,  we  find  that  she  is  still  very  much  to  us.  It  is 
something  more  than  these  bodily  sensations  we  experience  when 
first  mingling  with  our  fellow-creatures,  where  all  men  are  abso- 
lutely free  and  equal  as  here.  I  fancy  I  hear  some  wise  person  ex- 
claiming, "No,  no,  no !  In  name  only  is  your  Purple  Land  a  republic ; 
its  constitution  is  a  piece  of  waste  paper,  its  government  an  oligarchy 
tempered  by  assassination  and  revolution."  True;  but  the  knot  of 
ambitious  rulers  all  striving  to  pluck  each  other  down  have  no  power 
to  make  the  people  miserable.  The  unwritten  constitution,  mightier 
than  the  written  one,  is  in  the  heart  of  every  man  to  make  him  still 
a  republican  and  free  with  a  freedom  it  would  be  hard  to  match 
anywhere  else  on  the  globe.  The  Bedouin  himself  is  not  so  free, 
since  he  accords  an  almost  superstitious  reverence  and  implicit 
obedience  to  his  sheikh.  Here  the  lord  of  many  leagues  of  land  and 
of  herds  unnumbered  sits  down  to  talk  with  the  hired  shepherd,  a 
poor,  bare-footed  fellow  in  his  smoky  rancho,  and  no  class  or  caste 

244 


Cbe  purple  JLanD 

difference  divides  them,  no  consciousness  of  their  widely  different 
positions  chills  the  warm  current  of  sympathy  between  two  human 
hearts.  How  refreshing  it  is  to  meet  with  this  perfect  freedom  of 
intercourse,  tempered  only  by  that  innate  courtesy  and  native  grace 
of  manner  peculiar  to  Spanish  Americans!  What  a  change  to  a 
person  coming  from  lands  with  higher  and  lower  classes,  each  with 
its  innumerable  hateful  subdivisions — to  one  who  aspires  not  to 
mingle  with  the  class  above  him,  yet  who  shudders  at  the  slouching 
carriage  and  abject  demeanour  of  the  class  beneath  him!  If  this 
absolute  equality  is  inconsistent  with  perfect  political  order,  I  for  one 
should  grieve  to  see  such  order  established.  Moreover,  it  is  by  no 
means  true  that  the  communities  which  oftenest  startle  us  with 
crimes  of  disorder  and  violence  are  morally  worse  than  others.  A 
community  in  which  there  are  not  many  crimes  cannot  be  morally 
healthy.  There  were  practically  no  crimes  in  Peru  under  the  Inca 
dynasty;  it  was  a  marvellous  thing  for  a  person  to  commit  an  offence 
in  that  empire.  And  the  reason  for  this  most  unnatural  state  of 
things  was  this — the  Inca  system  of  government  was  founded  on 
that  most  iniquitous  and  disastrous  doctrine  that  the  individual 
bears  the  same  relation  to  the  State  as  a  child  to  its  parents,  that  its 
life  from  the  cradle  to  the  grave  must  be  regulated  for  it  by  a 
power  it  is  taught  to  regard  as  omniscient — a  power  practically 
omnipresent  and  almighty.  In  such  a  state  there  could  be  no  indi- 
vidual will,  no  healthy  play  of  passions,  and  consequently  no  crime. 
What  wonder  that  a  system  so  unspeakably  repugnant  to  a  being 
who  feels  that  his  will  is  a  divinity  working  within  him  fell  to 
pieces  at  the  first  touch  of  foreign  invasion,  or  that  it  left  no  vestige 
of  its  pernicious  existence  on  the  continent  it  had  ruled!  For  the 
whole  state  was,  so  to  speak,  putrid  even  before  dissolution,  and 
when  it  fell  it  mingled  with  the  dust  and  was  forgotten.  Poland, 
before  its  conquest  by  Russia,  a  country  ill-governed  and  disorderly 
as  the  Banda  Oriental,  did  not  mingle  with  dust  like  that  when  it 
fell — the  implacable  despotism  of  the  Czar  was  unable  to  crush 
its  fierce  spirit;  its  Will  still  survived  to  gild  dreary  oppression  with 
hallowed  dreams,  to  make  it  clutch  with  a  fearful  joy  the  dagger 

245 


Cfte  Purple  LanB 

concealed  in  its  bosom.  But  I  had  no  need  to  go  away  from  this 
Green  Continent  to  illustrate  the  truth  of  what  I  have  said.  Peo- 
ple who  talk  and  write  about  the  disorderly  South  American  re- 
publics are  fond  of  pointing  to  Brazil,  that  great,  peaceful,  pro- 
gressive empire,  as  setting  an  example  to  be  followed.  An  orderly 
country,  yes,  and  the  people  in  it  steeped  to  their  lips  in  every 
abominable  vice !  Compared  with  these  emasculated  children  of 
the  equator,  the  Orientals  are  Nature's  noblemen. 

I  can  very  well  imagine  some  over-righteous  person  saying, 
"Alas,  poor  deluded  soul,  how  little  importance  can  we  attach  to 
your  specious  apologies  of  a  people's  lawlessness,  when  your  own 
personal  narrative  shows  that  the  moral  atmosphere  you  have  been 
breathing  has  quite  corrupted  you !  Go  back  over  your  own  record, 
and  you  will  find  that  you  have,  according  to  our  notions,  offended 
in  various  ways  and  on  divers  occasions,  and  that  you  are  even  with- 
out the  grace  to  repent  of  all  the  evil  things  you  have  thought,  said, 
and  done." 

I  have  not  read  many  books  of  philosophy,  because  when  I  tried 
to  be  a  philosopher  "happiness  was  always  breaking  in,"  as  someone 
says;  also  because  I  have  loved  to  study  men  rather  than  books;  but 
in  the  little  I  have  read  there  occurs  a  passage  I  remember  well,  and 
this  I  shall  quote  as  my  answer  to  anyone  who  may  call  me  an 
immoral  person  because  my  passions  have  not  always  remained  in 
a  quiescent  state,  like  hounds — to  quote  the  simile  of  a  South  Amer- 
ican poet — slumbering  at  the  feet  of  the  huntsman  resting  against 
a  rock  at  noon.  "We  should  regard  the  perturbations  of  the  mind," 
says  Spinoza,  "not  in  the  light  of  vices  of  human  nature,  but  as 
properties  just  as  pertinent  to  it  as  are  heat,  storms,  thunder,  and 
the  like,  to  the  nature  of  the  atmosphere,  which  phenomena, 
though  inconvenient,  are  yet  necessary,  and  have  fixed  causes  by 
means  of  which  we  endeavour  to  understand  their  nature,  and  the 
mind  has  just  as  much  pleasure  in  seeing  them  aright  as  in  know- 
ing such  things  as  flatter  the  senses."  Let  me  have  the  phenomena 
which  are  inconvenient  as  well  as  the  things  which  flatter  the 
senses,  and  the  chances  are  that  my  life  will  be  a  healthier  and 

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happier  one  than  that  of  the  person  who  spends  his  time  on  a  cloud 
blushing  at  Nature's  naughtiness. 

It  is  often  said  that  an  ideal  state— a  Utopia  where  there  is  no 
folly,  crime,  or  sorrow — has  a  singular  fascination  for  the  mind. 
Now,  when  I  meet  with  a  falsehood,  I  care  not  who  the  great  per- 
sons who  proclaim  it  may  be,  I  do  not  try  to  like  it  or  believe  it  or 
mimic  the  fashionable  prattle  of  the  world  about  it.  I  hate  all 
dreams  of  perpetual  peace,  all  wonderful  cities  of  the  sun,  where 
people  consume  their  joyful,  monotonous  years  in  mystic  con- 
templations, or  find  their  delight,  like  Buddhist  monks,  in  gazing 
on  the  ashes  of  dead  generations  of  devotees.  The  state  is  one 
unnatural,  unspeakably  repugnant:  the  dreamless  sleep  of  the  grave 
is  more  tolerable  to  the  active,  healthy  mind  than  such  an  existence. 
If  Signer  Gaudentio  di  Lucca,  still  keeping  himself  alive  by  means 
of  his  marvellous  knowledge  of  the  secrets  of  Nature,  were  to  appear 
before  me  now  on  this  mountain  to  inform  me  that  the  sacred 
community  he  resided  with  in  Central  Africa  was  no  mere  dream, 
and  should  orTer  to  conduct  me  to  it,  I  should  decline  to  go  with 
him.  I  should  prefer  to  remain  in  the  Banda  Oriental,  even  though 
by  so  doing  I  should  grow  at  last  to  be  as  bad  as  any  person  in  it, 
and  ready  to  "wade  through  slaughter"  to  the  Presidential  Chair. 
For  even  in  my  own  country  of  England,  which  is  not  so  perfect 
as  old  Peru  or  the  Pophar's  country  in  Central  Africa,  I  have  been 
long  divided  from  Nature,  and  now  in  this  Oriental  country,  whose 
political  misdeeds  are  a  scandal  alike  to  pure  England  and  impure 
Brazil,  I  have  been  reunited  to  her.  For  this  reason  I  love  her  with 
all  her  faults.  Here,  like  Santa  Coloma,  I  will  kneel  down  and  kiss 
this  stone,  as  an  infant  might  kiss  the  breast  that  feeds  it ;  here,  fear- 
less of  dirt,  like  John  Carrickfergus,  I  will  thrust  my  hands  into  the 
loose  brown  soil  to  clasp  the  hands,  as  it  were,  of  dear  mother 
Nature  after  our  long  separation. 

Farewell,  beautiful  land  of  sunshine  and  storm,  of  virtue  and  of 
crime;  may  the  invaders  of  the  future  fare  on  your  soil  like  those 
of  the  past  and  leave  you  in  the  end  to  your  own  devices;  may  the 
chivalrous  instinct  of  Santa  Coloma,  the  passion  of  Dolores,  the 
loving-kindness  of  Candelaria  still  live  in  your  children  to  brighten 

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their  lives  with  romance  and  beauty ;  may  the  blight  of  our  superior 
civilisation  never  fall  on  your  wild  flowers,  or  the  yoke  of  our  pro- 
gress be  laid  on  your  herdsman — careless,  graceful,  music-loving 
as  the  birds— to  make  him  like  the  sullen,  abject  peasant  of  the  Old 
World! 


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CHAPTER  XXIX 

THE  meeting  of  my  fellow-travellers  took  place  next  day  on 
board  the  ship,  where  we  three  were  the  only  cabin  pas- 
sengers. On  going  down  into  the  little  saloon  I  found 
Demetria  waiting  for  us,  considerably  improved  in  appearance  by 
her  new  dress,  but  looking  pale  and  anxious,  for  she  probably  found 
this  meeting  a  trying  one.  The  two  women  looked  earnestly  at  each 
other,  but  Demetria,  to  hide  her  nervousness,  I  suppose,  had  framed 
her  face  in  the  old,  impassive,  almost  cold  expression  it  had  worn 
when  I  first  knew  her,  and  Paquita  was  repelled  by  it;  so  after  a 
somewhat  lukewarm  greeting  they  sat  down  and  made  common- 
place remarks.  Two  women  more  unlike  each  other  in  appearance, 
character,  education,  and  disposition  it  would  have  been  difficult  to 
find;  still,  I  had  hoped  they  might  be  friends,  and  felt  keenly 
disappointed  at  the  result  of  their  first  meeting.  After  an  uncom- 
fortable interval  we  all  rose.  I  was  about  to  proceed  to  the  deck, 
they  to  their  respective  cabins,  when  Paquita,  without  any  warning 
of  what  was  coming,  suddenly  burst  into  tears  and  threw  her  arms 
about  Demetria's  neck. 

"Oh,  dear  Demetria,  what  a  sad  life  yours  has  been!"  she  ex- 
claimed. 

That  was  like  her,  so  impulsive,  and  with  such  a  true  instinct 
to  make  her  do  the  right  thing  always !  The  other  gladly  responded 
to  the  embrace,  and  I  hastily  retreated,  leaving  them  kissing  and 
mingling  their  tears. 

When  I  got  out  on  deck  I  found  that  we  were  already  on  our 
way,  sails  up,  and  a  fresh  wind  sending  us  swiftly  through  the  dull 
green  water.  There  were  five  steerage  passengers,  disreputable-look- 
ing fellows  in  ponchos  and  slouch  hats,  lounging  about  the  deck 
smoking;  but  when  we  got  outside  the  harbour  and  the  ship  began 

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Cfte  Purple  JLanO 

to  toss  a  little,  they  very  soon  dropped  their  cigars  and  began 
ignominiously  creeping  away  out  of  sight  of  the  grinning  sailors. 
Only  one  remained,  a  grizzly-bearded,  rough-looking  old  gaucho, 
who  firmly  kept  his  seat  at  the  stern,  as  if  determined  to  see  the 
last  of  "The  Mount,"  as  the  pretty  city  near  the  foot  of  Magellan's 
Hill  is  called  by  the  English  people  in  this  region. 

To  satisfy  myself  that  none  of  these  fellows  were  sent  in  pursuit 
of  Demetria,  I  asked  our  Italian  captain  who  they  were  and  how 
long  they  had  been  on  board,  and  was  much  relieved  to  hear  that 
they  were  fugitives — rebels  probably — and  had  all  been  concealed 
for  the  past  three  or  four  days  in  the  ship,  waiting  to  get  away 
from  Montevideo. 

Towards  evening  it  came  on  very  rough,  the  wind  veering  to 
the  south  and  blowing  half  a  gale,  a  very  favourable  wind,  as  it 
happened,  to  take  us  across  this  unlovely  "Silver  Sea,"  as  the  poets 
of  the  Plata  insist  on  calling  it,  with  its  villainous,  brick-red,  chop- 
ping waves,  so  disagreeable  to  bad  sailors.  Paquita  and  Demetria 
suffered  agonies,  so  that  I  was  obliged  to  keep  with  them  a  good 
deal.  I  very  imprudently  told  them  not  to  be  alarmed,  that  it  was 
nothing — only  sea-sickness — and  I  verily  believe  they  both  hated 
me  with  all  their  hearts  for  a  little  while  in  consequence.  For- 
tunately I  had  anticipated  these  harrowing  scenes,  and  had  pro- 
vided a  bottle  of  champagne  for  the  occasion;  and  after  I  had  con- 
sumed two  or  three  glassfuls  to  encourage  them,  showing  how  easy 
this  kind  of  medicine  is  to  take,  I  prevailed  on  them  to  drink  the 
remainder.  At  length,  about  ten  o'clock  in  the  evening,  they  began 
to  suspect  that  their  malady  was  not  going  to  prove  fatal,  and, 
seeing  them  so  much  better,  I  went  up  to  get  some  fresh  air.  There 
at  the  stern  still  sat  the  stoical  old  gaucho,  looking  extremely 
miserable. 

"Good  evening,  old  comrade,"  said  I;  "will  you  smoke  a 
cigar?" 

"Young  master,  you  seem  to  have  a  good  heart,"  he  returned, 
shaking  his  head  at  the  proffered  cigar,  "do,  for  God's  sake,  get  me  a 
little  rum.  I  am  dying  for  something  to  warm  my  inside  and  stop 

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my  head  from  going  round  like  a  top,  but  nothing  can  I  get  from 
these  jabbering  foreign  brutes  on  board." 

"Yes,  why  not,  my  old  friend,"  said  I,  and,  going  to  the  master 
of  the  boat,  I  succeeded  in  getting  a  pint  of  rum  in  a  bottle. 

The  old  fellow  clutched  it  with  eager  delight  and  took  a  long 
draught.  "Ah!"  he  said,  patting  first  the  bottle,  then  his  stomach, 
"this  puts  new  life  into  a  man  !  Will  this  voyage  never  end,  master  ? 
When  I  am  on  horseback  I  can  forget  that  I  am  old,  but  these 
cursed  waves  remind  me  that  I  have  lived  many  years." 

I  lit  my  cigar  and  sat  down  to  have  a  talk  with  him. 

"Ah,  with  you  foreigners  it  is  just  the  same  —  land  or  water," 
he  continued.  "You  can  even  smoke  —  what  a  calm  head  and  quiet 
stomach  you  must  have!  But  what  puzzles  me  is  this,  senor;  how 
you,  a  foreigner,  come  to  be  travelling  with  native  women.  Now, 
there  is  that  beautiful  young  senora  with  the  violet  eyes,  who  can 
she  be?" 

"She  is  my  wife,  old  man,"  said  I,  laughing,  a  little  amused  at 
his  curiosity. 

"Ah,  you  are  married  then  —  so  young?  She  is  beautiful,  grace- 
ful, well  educated,  the  daughter  of  wealthy  parents,  no  doubt,  but 
frail,  frail,  senor;  and  some  day,  not  a  very  distant  day  —  but  why 
should  I  predict  sorrow  to  a  gay  heart?  Only  her  face,  senor,  is 
strange  to  me;  it  does  not  recall  the  features  of  any  Oriental 
family  I  know." 

"That  is  easily  explained,"  I  said,  surprised  at  his  shrewdness, 
"she  is  an  Argentine,  not  an  Oriental." 

"Ah,  that  explains  it,"  he  said,  taking  another  long  pull  at  the 
bottle.  "As  for  the  other  senora  with  you,  I  need  not  ask  you  who 
she  is." 

"Why,  who  is  she?"  I  returned. 

"A  Peralta,  if  there  ever  was  one,"  he  returned  confidently. 

His  reply  disturbed  me  not  a  little,  for,  after  all  my  precautions, 
this  old  man  had  perhaps  been  sent  to  follow  Demetria. 

"Yes,"  he  continued,  with  an  evident  pride  in  his  knowledge 
of  families  and  faces  which  tended  to  allay  my  suspicions;  "a  Per- 
alta and  not  a  Madariaga,  nor  a  Sanchez,  nor  a  Zelaya,  nor  an 

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Cfte  Purple  JLanD 

Ibarra.  Do  I  not  know  a  Peralta  when  I  see  one?"  And  here  he 
laughed  scornfully  at  the  absurdity  of  such  an  idea. 

"Tell  me,"  I  said,  "how  do  you  know  a  Peralta?" 

"The  question!"  he  exclaimed.  "You  are  a  Frenchman  or  a 
German  from  over  the  sea,  and  do  not  understand  these  things. 
Have  I  borne  arms  forty  years  in  my  country's  service  not  to  know 
a  Peralta !  On  earth  they  are  with  me ;  if  I  go  to  Heaven  I  meet  them 
there,  and  in  Hell  I  see  them;  for  when  have  I  charged  into  the 
hottest  of  the  fight  and  have  not  found  a  Peralta  there  before  me  ? 
But  I  am  speaking  of  the  past,  senor;  for  now  I  am  also  like  one 
that  has  been  left  on  the  field  forgotten — left  for  the  vultures  and 
foxes.  You  will  no  longer  find  them  walking  on  the  earth;  only 
where  men  have  rushed  together  sword  in  hand  you  will  find  their 
bones.  Ah,  friend!"  And  here,  overcome  with  sad  memories,  the 
ancient  warrior  took  another  drink  from  his  bottle. 

"They  cannot  all  be  dead,"  said  I,  "if,  as  you  imagine,  the 
senora  travelling  with  me  is  a  Peralta." 

"As  I  imagine!"  he  repeated  scornfully.  "Do  I  not  know  what 
I  am  talking  about,  young  sir?  They  are  dead,  I  tell  you— dead 
as  the  past,  dead  as  Oriental  independence  and  honour.  Did  I  not 
ride  into  the  fight  at  Gil  de  los  Medanos  with  the  last  of  the  Per- 
altas,  Calixto,  when  he  received  his  baptism  of  blood  ?  Fifteen  years 
old,  senor,  only  fifteen,  when  he  galloped  into  the  fight,  for  he  had 
the  light  heart,  the  brave  spirit,  and  the  hand  swift  to  strike  of  a 
Peralta.  And  after  the  fight  our  colonel,  Santa  Coloma,  who  was 
killed  the  other  day  at  San  Paulo,  embraced  the  boy  before  all  the 
troops.  He  is  dead,  senor,  and  with  Calixto  died  the  house  of 
Peralta." 

"You  knew  Santa  Coloma,  then?"  I  said.  "But  you  are  mis- 
taken, he  was  not  killed  at  San  Paulo,  he  made  his  escape." 

"So  they  say — the  ignorant  ones,"  he  returned.  "But  he  is  dead, 
for  he  loved  his  country,  and  all  who  are  of  that  mind  are  slain. 
How  should  he  escape?" 

"I  tell  you  he  is  not  dead,"  I  repeated,  vexed  at  his  stubborn 
persistence.  "I  also  knew  him,  old  man,  and  was  with  him  at  San 
Paulo." 

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Cfte  Ipurple  Hand 


He  looked  at  me  for  a  long  time,  and  then  took  another  swig 
from  his  bottle. 

"Senor,  this  is  not  a  thing  I  love  joking  about,"  said  he.  "Let 
us  talk  of  other  things.  What  I  want  to  know  is,  what  is  Calixto's 
sister  doing  here?  Why  has  she  left  her  country?" 

Receiving  no  reply  to  this  question,  he  went  on:  "Has  she  not 
got  property  ?  Yes,  a  large  estancia,  impoverished,  ruined,  if  you  like, 
but  still  a  very  large  tract  of  land.  When  your  enemies  do  not  fear 
you,  then  they  cease  to  persecute.  A  broken  old  man,  bereft  of  rea- 
son —  surely  they  would  not  trouble  him!  No,  no,  she  is  leaving  her 
country  for  other  reasons.  Yes,  there  is  some  private  plot  against 
her;  some  design,  perhaps,  to  carry  her  off,  or  even  to  destroy  her 
and  get  possession  of  her  property.  Naturally,  in  such  a  case,  she 
would  fly  for  protection  to  Buenos  Ayres,  where  there  is  one  with 
some  of  her  blood  in  his  veins  able  to  protect  her  person  and  her 
property." 

I  was  astonished  to  hear  him,  but  his  last  words  were  a  mystery 
to  me. 

"There  is  no  one  in  Buenos  Ayres  to  protect  her,"  I  said;  "I 
only  will  be  there  as  I  am  here  to  shield  her,  and  if,  as  you  think, 
she  has  an  enemy,  he  must  reckon  with  me  —  one  who,  like  that 
Calixto  you  speak  of,  has  a  hand  quick  to  strike." 

"There  spoke  the  heart  of  a  Blanco!"  he  exclaimed,  clutching 
my  arm,  and  then,  the  boat  giving  a  lurch  at  that  moment,  almost 
dragging  me  down  in  his  efforts  to  steady  himself.  After  another 
sip  of  rum  he  went  on:  "But  who  are  you,  young  sir,  if  that  is  not 
an  impertinent  question?  Do  you  possess  money,  influence,  power- 
ful friends,  that  you  take  upon  yourself  the  care  of  this  woman? 
Is  it  in  your  power  to  baffle  and  crush  her  enemy  or  enemies,  to 
protect  not  only  her  person,  but  her  property,  which,  in  her  absence, 
will  become  the  prey  of  robbers  ?"  Bancroft  Library 

"And  who  are  you,  old  man  ?"  I  returned,  unable  to  give  a  satis- 
factory answer  to  one  of  his  searching  questions,  "and  why  do  you 
ask  me  these  things?  And  who  is  this  powerful  person  you  speak 
of  in  Buenos  Ayres  with  some  of  her  blood  in  his  veins,  but  of 
whose  existence  she  is  ignorant  ?" 

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He  shook  his  head  silently,  then  deliberately  proceeded  to  take 
out  and  light  a  cigarette.  He  smoked  with  a  placid  enjoyment  which 
made  me  think  that  his  refusal  of  my  cigar  and  his  bitter  complaints 
about  the  effects  of  the  ship's  tossing  on  him  had  merely  been  to 
get  the  bottle  of  rum  out  of  me.  He  was  evidently  a  veteran  in  more 
senses  than  one,  and  now,  finding  that  I  would  tell  him  no  more 
secrets,  he  refused  to  answer  any  questions.  Fearing  that  I  had  im- 
prudently told  him  too  much  already,  I  finally  left  him  and  retired 
to  my  bunk. 

Next  morning  we  arrived  at  Buenos  Ayres,  and  cast  anchor 
about  two  miles  from  shore,  for  that  was  as  near  the  land  as  we 
could  get.  Presently  we  were  boarded  by  a  Custom  House  officer, 
and  for  some  time  longer  I  was  engaged  in  getting  out  our 
luggage  and  in  bargaining  with  the  captain  to  put  us  on  shore. 
When  I  had  completed  these  arrangements  I  was  very  much 
surprised  to  see  the  cunning  old  soldier  I  had  talked  with  the 
evening  before  sitting  in  the  Custom  House  boat,  which  was  just 
putting  off  from  the  side.  Demetria  had  been  looking  on  when  the 
old  fellow  had  left  the  ship,  and  she  now  came  to  me  looking  very 
excited. 

"Richard,"  she  said,  "did  you  notice  that  man  who  was  a  pas- 
senger with  us  and  who  has  just  gone  off  in  the  boat?  It  is  Santa 
Coloma." 

"Oh,  absurd!"  I  exclaimed.  "I  talked  with  that  old  man  last 
night  for  an  hour — an  old  grey-bearded  gaucho,  and  no  more  like 
Santa  Coloma  than  that  sailor." 

"I  know  I  am  right,"  she  returned.  "The  General  has  visited  my 
father  at  the  estancia  and  I  know  him  well.  He  is  disguised  now  and 
has  made  himself  look  like  a  peasant,  but  when  he  went  over  the 
side  into  the  boat  he  looked  full  into  my  face;  I  knew  him  and 
started,  then  he  smiled,  for  he  saw  that  I  had  recognised  him." 

The  very  fact  that  this  common-looking  old  man  had  gone  on 
shore  in  the  Custom  House  boat  proved  that  he  was  a  person  of 
consequence  in  disguise,  and  I  could  not  doubt  that  Demetria  was 
right.  I  felt  excessively  annoyed  at  myself  for  having  failed  to  pene- 
trate his  disguise;  for  something  of  the  old  Marcos  Marco  style  of 

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speaking  might  very  well  have  revealed  his  identity  if  I  had  only 
had  my  wits  about  me.  I  was  also  very  much  concerned  on  De- 
metria's  account,  for  it  seemed  that  I  had  missed  finding  out  some- 
thing for  her  which  would  have  been  to  her  advantage  to  know. 
I  was  ashamed  to  tell  her  of  that  conversation  about  a  relation  in 
Buenos  Ayres,  but  secretly  determined  to  try  and  find  Santa  Co- 
loma  to  get  him  to  tell  me  what  he  knew. 

After  landing  we  put  our  small  luggage  into  a  fly  and  were 
driven  to  an  hotel  in  Calle  Lima,  an  out-of-the-way  place  kept  by 
a  German;  but  I  knew  the  house  to  be  a  quiet,  respectable  one  and 
very  moderate  in  its  charges. 

About  five  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  we  were  together  in  the 
sitting-room  on  the  first  floor,  looking  down  on  the  street  from  the 
window,  when  a  well-appointed  carriage  with  a  gentleman  and  two 
young  ladies  in  it  drew  up  before  the  door. 

"Oh,  Richard,"  exclaimed  Paquita  in  the  greatest  excitement,  "it 
is  Don  Pantaleon  Villaverde  with  his  daughters,  and  they  are  get- 
ting out!" 

"Who  is  Villaverde?"  I  asked. 

"What,  do  you  not  know?  He  is  a  Judge  of  First  Instance,  and 
his  daughters  are  my  dearest  friends.  Is  it  not  strange  to  meet  them 
like  this  ?  Oh,  I  must  see  them  to  ask  for  papa  and  mamital"  and 
here  she  began  to  cry. 

The  waiter  came  up  with  a  card  from  the  Senor  Villaverde  re- 
questing an  interview  with  the  Senorita  Peralta. 

Demetria,  who  had  been  trying  to  soothe  Paquita's  intense  ex- 
citement and  infuse  a  little  courage  into  her,  was  too  much  amazed 
to  speak;  and  in  another  moment  our  visitors  were  in  the  room. 
Paquita  started  up  tearful  and  trembling;  then  her  two  young 
friends,  after  staring  at  her  for  a  few  moments,  delivered  a  screech 
-)f  astonishment  and  rushed  into  her  arms,  and  all  three  were  locked 
together  for  some  time  in  a  triangular  embrace. 

When  the  excitement  of  this  tempestuous  meeting  had  spent 
itself,  Senor  Villaverde,  who  stood  looking  on  with  grave,  impres- 
sive face,  spoke  to  Demetria,  telling  her  that  his  old  friend,  General 
Santa  Coloma,  had  just  informed  him  of  her  arrival  in  Buenos 

255 


Cfie  putple  LanB 

Ayres  and  of  the  hotel  where  she  was  staying.  Probably  she  did 
not  even  know  who  he  was,  he  said;  he  was  her  relation;  his 
mother  was  a  Peralta,  a  first  cousin  of  her  unhappy  father,  Colonel 
Peralta.  He  had  come  to  see  her  with  his  daughters  to  invite  her  to 
make  his  house  her  home  during  her  stay  in  Buenos  Ayres.  He 
also  wished  to  help  her  with  her  affairs,  which,  his  friend  the  Gen- 
eral had  informed  him,  were  in  some  confusion.  He  had,  he  con- 
cluded, many  influential  friends  in  the  sister  city,  who  would  be 
ready  to  assist  him  in  arranging  matters  for  her. 

Demetria,  recovering  from  the  nervousness  she  had  experienced 
on  finding  that  Paquita's  great  friends  were  her  visitors,  thanked 
him  warmly  and  accepted  his  offer  of  a  home  and  assistance;  then, 
with  a  quiet  dignity  and  self-possession  one  would  hardly  expect 
from  a  girl  coming  amongst  fashionable  people  for  the  first  time  in 
her  life,  she  greeted  her  new-found  relations  and  thanked  them  for 
their  visit. 

As  they  insisted  on  taking  Demetria  away  with  them  at  once, 
she  left  us  to  make  her  preparations,  while  Paquita  remained  con- 
versing with  her  friends,  having  many  questions  to  ask  them.  She 
was  consumed  with  anxiety  to  know  how  her  family,  and  especially 
her  father,  who  made  the  domestic  laws,  now,  after  so  many 
months,  regarded  her  elopement  and  marriage  with  me.  Her 
friends,  however,  either  knew  nothing  or  would  not  tell  her  what 
they  knew. 

Poor  Demetria!  she  had,  with  no  time  given  her  for  reflection, 
taken  the  wise  course  of  at  once  accepting  the  ofTer  of  her  influential 
and  extremely  dignified  kinsman;  but  it  was  hard  for  her  to  leave 
her  friends  at  such  short  notice,  and  when  she  came  back  prepared 
for  her  departure  the  separation  tried  her  severely.  With  tears  in  her 
eyes  she  bade  Paquita  farewell,  but  when  she  took  my  hand  in  hers, 
for  some  time  her  trembling  lips  refused  to  speak.  Overcoming  her 
emotions  by  a  great  effort,  she  at  length  said,  addressing  her  visi- 
tors, "For  my  escape  from  a  sad  and  perilous  position  and  for  the 
pleasure  of  finding  myself  here  amongst  relations,  I  am  indebted 
to  this  young  friend  who  has  been  a  brother  to  me." 

Senor  Villaverde  listened  and  bowed  towards  me,  but  with  no 

256 


Cfte  purple  JLanD 

softening  in  his  stern,  calm  face,  while  his  cold  grey  eyes  seemed  to 
look  straight  through  me  at  something  beyond.  His  manner  towards 
me  made  me  feel  a  kind  of  despair,  for  how  strong  must  have  been 
his  disapproval  of  my  conduct  in  running  off  with  his  friend's 
daughter — how  great  his  indignation  against  me,  when  it  pre- 
vented him  from  bestowing  one  smile  or  one  kind  word  on  me  to 
thank  me  for  all  I  had  done  for  his  kinswoman!  Yet  this  was  only 
the  reflected  indignation  of  my  father-in-law. 

We  went  down  to  the  carriage  to  see  them  off,  and  then,  finding 
myself  for  a  moment  by  the  side  of  one  of  the  young  ladies,  I  tried 
to  find  out  something  for  myself.  "Pray  tell  me,  senorita,"  I  said, 
"what  you  know  about  my  father-in-law.  If  it  is  very  bad,  I  promise 
you  my  wife  shall  not  hear  a  word  of  it;  but  it  is  best  that  I  should 
know  the  truth  before  meeting  him." 

A  cloud  came  over  her  bright,  expressive  face,  while  she  glanced 
anxiously  at  Paquita;  then,  bending  towards  me,  she  whispered, 
"Ah,  my  friend,  he  is  implacable !  I  am  so  sorry,  for  Paquita's  sake." 
And  then,  with  a  smile  of  irrepressible  coquetry,  she  added,  "And 
for  yours." 

The  carriage  drove  away,  and  Demetria's  eyes,  looking  back  at 
me,  were  filled  with  tears,  but  in  Senor  Villaverde's  eyes,  also  glanc- 
ing back,  there  was  an  expression  that  boded  ill  for  my  future.  His 
feeling  was  natural,  perhaps,  for  he  was  the  father  of  two  very  pretty 
girls. 

Implacable,  and  I  was  now  divided  from  him  by  no  silver  or 
brick-coloured  sea!  By  returning  I  had  made  myself  amenable  to 
the  laws  I  had  broken  by  marrying  a  girl  under  age  without  her 
father's  consent.  The  person  in  England  who  runs  away  with  a  ward 
in  Chancery  is  not  a  greater  offender  against  the  law  than  I  was. 
It  was  now  in  his  power  to  have  me  punished,  to  cast  me  into  prison 
for  an  indefinite  time,  and  if  not  to  crush  my  spirit,  he  would  at 
least  be  able  to  break  the  heart  of  his  unhappy  daughter.  Those 
wild,  troubled  days  in  the  Purple  Land  now  seemed  to  my  mind 
peaceful,  happy  days,  and  the  bitter  days  with  no  pleasure  in  them 
were  only  now  about  to  begin.  Implacable! 

257 


.    Cfje  purple  JLanD 

Suddenly  looking  up,  I  found  Paquita's  violet  eyes,  full  of  sad 
questioning,  fixed  on  my  face. 

"Tell  me  truly,  Richard,  what  have  you  heard?"  she  asked. 

I  forced  a  smile,  and,  taking  her  hand,  assured  her  that  I  had 
heard  nothing  to  cause  her  any  uneasiness.  "Come,"  I  said,  "let  us 
go  in  and  prepare  to  leave  town  to-morrow.  We  will  go  back  to 
the  point  we  started  from — your  father's  estanda,  for  the  sooner 
this  meeting  you  are  thinking  about  so  anxiously  is  over  the  better 
will  it  be  for  all  of  us." 


258 


HISTORY  OF  THE  BANDA  ORIENTAL 

THE  country,  called  in  this  work  the  Purple  Land,  was  discovered  by  Magel- 
lan in  the  year  1500,  and  he  called  the  hill,  or  mountain,  which  gives  its 
name  to  the  capital,  Monte  Vidi.  He  described  it  as  a  hat-shaped  mountain; 
and  it  is  probable  that,  four  centuries  ago,  the  tall,  conical  hat,  which  is  worn 
to  this  day  by  women  in  South  Wales,  was  a  common  form  in  Spain  and 
Portugal. 

In  due  time  settlements  were  made;  but  the  colonists  of  those  days  loved 
gold  and  adventure  above  everything,  and,  finding  neither  in  the  Banda,  they 
little  esteemed  it.  For  two  centuries  it  was  neglected  by  its  white  possessors, 
while  the  cattle  they  had  imported  continued  to  multiply,  and,  returning  to 
a  feral  life,  overran  the  country  in  amazing  numbers. 

The  heroic  period  in  South  American  history  then  passed  away.  El  Dorado, 
the  Spaniard's  New  Jerusalem,  has  changed  into  a  bank  of  malarious  mist 
and  a  cloud  of  mosquitoes,  Amazons,  giants,  pigmies. 

"The  Anthropophagi,  and  men  whose  heads 
Do  grow  beneath  their  shoulders," 

when  closely  looked  for,  turned  out  to  be  Red  Indians  of  a  type  which 
varied  but  little  throughout  the  entire  vast  continent.  Wanderers  from  the 
Old  World  grew  weary  of  seeking  the  tropics  only  to  sink  into  flowery 
graves.  They  turned  away  sick  at  heart  from  the  great  desolation  where 
the  splendid  empire  of  the  Children  of  the  Sun  had  so  lately  flourished. 
The  accumulated  treasures  had  been  squandered.  The  cruel  crusades  of  the 
Paulists  against  the  Jesuit  missions  had  ceased  for  the  inhuman  slave-hunters 
had  utterly  destroyed  the  smiling  gardens  in  the  wilderness.  A  remnant  of 
the  escaped  converts  had  gone  back  to  a  wild  life  in  the  woods,  and  the 
Fathers,  who  had  done  their  Master's  work  so  well,  drifted  away  to  mingle 
in  other  scenes  or  die  of  broken  hearts.  Then,  in  the  sober  eighteenth 
century,  when  the  disillusion  was  complete,  Spain  woke  up  to  the  fact  that 
in  the  temperate  part  of  the  continent,  shared  by  her  with  Portugal,  she  pos- 
sessed a  new  bright  little  Spain  worth  cultivating.  About  the  same  time, 
Portugal  discovered  that  the  acquisition  of  this  pretty  country,  with  its  lovely 
Lusitanian  climate,  would  nicely  round  off  her  vast  possessions  on  the  south 
side.  Forthwith  these  two  great  colonising  powers  fell  to  fighting  over  the 

259 


Banda,  where  there  were  no  temples  of  beaten  gold,  or  mythical  races  of 
men,  or  fountains  of  everlasting  youth.  The  quarrel  might  have  continued  to 
the  end  of  time,  so  languidly  was  it  conducted  by  both  parties,  had  not  great 
events  come  to  swallow  up  the  little  ones. 

At  the  beginning  of  the  nineteenth  century  the  English  invasion  burst 
like  a  sudden  terrible  thunderstorm  on  the  country.  Montevideo  on  the 
east  and  Buenos  Ayres  on  the  west  side  of  the  sea-like  river  were  captured 
and  lost  again.  The  storm  was  soon  over,  but  it  had  the  effect  of  precipitating 
the  revolution  of  1810,  which  presently  ended  in  the  loss  to  Spain  of  all  her 
American  possessions.  These  changes  brought  only  fresh  wars  and  calamities 
to  the  long-suffering  Banda.  The  ancient  feud  between  Spain  and  Portugal 
descended  to  the  new  Brazilian  Empire  and  the  new  Argentine  Confedera- 
tion, and  these  claimants  contended  for  the  country  until  1828,  when  they 
finally  agreed  to  let  it  govern  itself  in  its  own  fashion.  After  thus  acquiring 
its  independence,  the  little  Belgium  of  the  New  World  cast  off  its  pretty  but 
hated  appellation  of  Cisplatina  and  resumed  its  old  joyous  name  of  Banda 
Oriental.  With  light  hearts  the  people  then  proceeded  to  divide  themselves 
into  two  political  parties — Whites  and  Reds.  Endless  struggles  for  mastery 
ensued,  in  which  the  Argentines  and  Brazilians,  forgetting  their  solemn 
compact,  were  for  ever  taking  sides.  But  of  these  wars  of  crows  and  pies 
it  would  be  idle  to  say  more,  since,  after  going  on  for  three-quarters  of  a 
century,  they  are  not  wholly  ended  yet.  The  rambles  and  adventures  described 
in  the  book  take  us  back  to  the  late  'sixties  or  early  'seventies  of  the  last 
century,  when  the  country  was  still  in  the  condition  in  which  it  had  remained 
since  the  colonial  days,  when  the  ten  years'  siege  of  Montevideo  was  not 
yet  a  remote  event,  and  many  of  the  people  one  met  had  had  a  part  in  it. 


260 


^  Ulnijorvn  wiln  ini 


is  ^i/oiuwie 


THE   GOLDEN  TREASURY  --  Pa/grave. 

Illustrated  by  Valenti  Angela 

OLIVER  TWIST  —  Dickens. 

With  all  the  26  Cruikshank  Plates 

AESOP'S   FABLES.     Illustrated  by  Charles  H.  Bennett 

THE  PLAYS  OF  ANTON  CHEKHOV. 

Woodcuts  by  Howard  Simon 

THE  THREE   MUSKETEERS  —  Dumas. 
Illustrated  by  Valenti  Angela 

THE  WAY  OF  ALL  FLESH  —  Butler. 
Wood  blocks  by  Howard  Simon 

ALICE'S  ADVENTURES  IN  WONDERLAND  and 
THROUGH  THE  LOOKING  GLASS  —  Carroll. 
Illustrated  by  John  Tenniel 

FAIRY  TALES  —  Andersen. 
Illustrated  by  Harry  Clarke 

ADVENTURES    OF    TOM     SAWYER—  Clemens. 
Illustrated  by  Richard  Rodgers 

CYRANO   DE   BERGERAC  —  Rostand. 
Illustrated  by  Nino  Carbe 

A   SHROPSHIRE   LAD  —  Housman. 
Illustrated  by  Elinor  Blaisdell 

THE  RUBAIYAT  OF  OMAR   KHAYYAM. 

Illustrated  by  Edmund  J.  Sullivan 

GREEN  MANSIONS  — THE   PURPLE  LAND 

(complete  in  one  volume)  — Hudson. 
Illustrated  by  Keith  Hendersen 

The  Three  Sirens  Press 

IO4    FIFTH    AVENUE,    NEW    YORK 


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